


Ineffable Connections

by dreamingofwinter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Developing Relationship, Discorporation (Good Omens), Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Friendship, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Intimacy, Kissing, M/M, Nightmares, Psychic Bond, Romance, Sex, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Violence, Wing Grooming, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingofwinter/pseuds/dreamingofwinter
Summary: On the anniversary of Armageddon, Aziraphale and Crowley get closer as they spend the night of the notable date together. Unbeknownst to him, Crowley accidentally triggers a painful memory for Aziraphale, and the angel is sent into a spiral that brings him face to face with someone he would rather leave in the past. The events that follow bring betrayal, suffering and redemption for the angel and his demon.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 182
Collections: Tip Top Stories, completed and loved fics





	1. Chapter One

It had been a year ago since Armageddon did not happen. Precisely a year to the day, in fact, and at this moment in time, Aziraphale and Crowley were still navigating their newly developed relationship. Surprisingly it was the physical aspect of it that came naturally to them, the difficult part openly admitting their emotional turmoil that had culminated from years of rejection and devaluation from their respective former sides. Neither wanting to burden the other, they swiftly dealt with any resurfacing feelings in their own ways. Or did not, as far as most of it went for Aziraphale. 

The anniversary had therefore arrived, and if Aziraphale and Crowley held each other a little closer, were more tender in their kisses and caresses, neither spoke of it. Both were quieter than usual over dinner, and when they arrived back at Aziraphale’s bookshop, neither made a move to exit the car.

There was a brief silence, then the angel spoke.

‘Crowley, perhaps you’d like to... stay the night?’

The demon met blue-grey eyes filled to the brim with emotion. Aziraphale was asking uncertainly but his expression was pleading.

Of course Crowley would stay, he wanted nothing more. He had stayed over numerous times since their relationship had blossomed from friendship to something more. After the events of the failed Armageddon, it had felt like a natural progression, and there were times when neither wanted to let the other out of their sight. Tonight was one of those nights.

Tonight their lovemaking was tender and unhurried; all the while their touches conveying the message that they were alive, they were there together in the moment, and they had each other tonight and always. After reaching completion together and coming down from their high, they cupped each other’s faces, kissing and wiping away the tears that were silently shed through the sheer intensity of their emotions.

They had been holding each other for some time, Crowley’s head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, before the demon finally broke the silence.

‘Don’t let me fall asleep tonight, angel.’

Aziraphale shifted slightly to get a better view of the demon’s face in the soft lamplight and gave him an understanding look.

Crowley’s eyes conveyed such a look of vulnerability Aziraphale felt like weeping all over again. He tightened his hold around Crowley’s shoulders and stroked his back reassuringly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

‘Of course, my love... would you like me to fetch you a cup of tea? Or we could talk, or I could read to you?’

‘Well...,’ Crowley shifted, snake like, to face Aziraphale. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of-‘ he broke off and captured the angel’s lips in another slow, sensual kiss. Aziraphale made a throaty humming noise of approval and returned the kiss, opening his mouth to allow Crowley entry.

The mood lifted; heavy, thoughtful atmosphere shifting to a more playful, passionate one as the kiss became heated.

‘Mmmh, _Crowley_.’ Aziraphale moaned the demon’s name so positively sinfully it sparked something inside Crowley that nearly made him come undone.

‘Angel,’ he gasped, burying his head in Aziraphale’s neck and pressing searing kisses along it and down to his chest. Aziraphale squirmed with delight under Crowley’s ministrations, running his hands over the demon’s shoulders and then through his hair as his head ducked lower beneath the covers. Taking Aziraphale into his mouth, Crowley elicited another delightful moan from his angel, who was now in the throes of passion, eyes tightly closed and expression one of absolute bliss.

After Aziraphale was pushed over the brink once more, he wasted no time in pulling the demon up and crashing their lips together, hands roaming over his lithe body.

‘Make love to me,’ Aziraphale gasped between feverous kisses. Crowley gave a low chuckle.

‘Very demanding tonight, aren’t we angel?’

' _Please_.' Aziraphale breathed, pushing his body closer to Crowley's in an attempt to convey just how much he wanted this, _needed_ this.

Crowley was most definitely ready again, and very willing to oblige. When he entered Aziraphale, the angel cried out with pleasure below him, and they soon began to move together in their comforting, familiar way. Crowley loved being face to face with Aziraphale when they came together; seeing the absolute ecstasy written on his features was even more beautiful than the stars and galaxies themselves.

This time, instead of tears, there were whispered sweet nothings and _I love yous_ as they fell together, sated and spent.

This was definitely a much better way to spend the night rather than trapped in the recurring nightmare of a burning bookshop and discorporated angel.

By the time the sunlight began filtering in through the windows, Aziraphale and Crowley were laid together in companionable silence, neither particularly wanting to move. They were still unclothed and wrapped in a close embrace, Crowley on his back with his arm around his angel, who had snuggled into his side. Unfortunately, long periods of silence were not doing Aziraphale any good at present, and despite being wrapped in his lover's arms, his mind was beginning to wander into darker places he would rather not visit.

Since Armageddon, Aziraphale would find himself dwelling on all manner of unpleasant experiences, the feeling of inadequacy swamping him when he remembered he had lost not only his flaming sword, but also the Antichrist, before being discorporated due to his own clumsiness. In these moments, which would sometimes last for a few hours or could linger for days, Aziraphale would shut himself away, not wanting to admit to Crowley that he could not bear to be around the demon, who lavished him with praise and affection. He did not deserve it. He was _weak_ and _soft_ and it was _improper_.

Then there was the matter of Heaven; despite his treatment by Gabriel and the other angels, Aziraphale would feel pangs of guilt when he thought about how he had disobeyed direct orders despite knowing that for once, he had absolutely done the right thing. Somehow even an attempted execution was not enough to make him feel one hundred percent certain that he had been right in completely severing his ties with Heaven. He supposed it was because they were, in a celestial sense, his family, and such ties could be so difficult to break; the forced sense of belonging warping the reality of the fact that they had been a major cause of anxiety for six thousand years.

This morning, it was Aziraphale who felt vulnerable, naked in every sense of the word. He felt jittery and anxious, trying to push the feelings down and focus on the warmth of Crowley's arms around him. Removing his hand from the demon's waist, he pulled the bedcover up higher, almost cocooning himself in to try and keep the thoughts at bay. He would have stayed there all day, but then Crowley would know something was wrong and ask him about it, and Aziraphale could not burden him like that when the demon had most likely had a much tougher time of it in Hell.

'S'pose we ought to be getting up soon, angel.' Crowley stretched, and yawned unnecessarily.

'Indeed.' Aziraphale tried to think of something to say that would make things seem more normal, but his head felt foggy and the words stuck in his throat. Crowley, oblivious, continued.

'You know, sloth is one of the seven deadly sins,' he drawled in amusement when Aziraphale made no move to get up. 'I'll make you a cup of tea.' Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale's temple and extricated himself from the covers, climbing out of bed and dressing himself with a snap of his fingers. 

Aziraphale felt sluggish, and not particularly capable of performing even a minor miracle at this point. Instead, he sat up and climbed out of bed slowly, making his way over to his perfectly folded trousers on the dresser and began to put them on. Once that was done, he wandered over to the wardrobe and selected a light blue shirt, fumbling with the buttons as he tried to gather his energy and organise his thoughts so that he could at least seem vaguely like himself when Crowley returned.

As if on cue, the demon stuck his head around the bedroom door.

'Tea's ready. Although...' Crowley moved behind Aziraphale and snaked his arms around the angel's waist, head resting on Aziraphale's shoulder. '... I might just use my demonic wiles to tempt you back to bed after all,' he teased.

'Well, I will do my best to resist.' Aziraphale played along and resisted the urge to just turn and fall into Crowley, and tell him everything while the demon's comforting arms wrapped around him. Crowley grinned across at him playfully.

'Ah well, that's obviously doomed to failure.'

_Obviously doomed to failure._

It was as though Aziraphale had been doused with a bucket of ice cold water. At first, there was nothing, a numbness. Then he was hurtled back, finding himself stood in front of Gabriel, Michael, Uriel and Sandalphon as he told them his plans to influence the Antichrist towards the light. He had thought it a wonderfully clever idea at the time, only to be quickly shot down by Michael and Gabriel. It had been Gabriel's words that had stuck, sinking in with a dreadful realisation that that was all Aziraphale was, all he had ever been... just like his plan... _a failure_. 

'Aziraphale?' Crowley's concerned voice transported him back to the present, and he realised he had been stood there motionless for several seconds, barely even breathing.

The familiar feeling of panic began welling in the angel's chest. He mustn't let Crowley see him like this. He fumbled, trying to find an excuse to be alone.

'It's getting late, I need to open the shop... what time is it, exactly? He pulled away from Crowley and made a show of going over to look at the clock on the wall, not really seeing where the hands pointed. ‘Oh dear. I think you’d better go.’ Aziraphale unconsciously worried at his bottom lip with his teeth. Crowley gave him a look that was equal parts worried and confused.

‘What’s wrong, angel?’

‘I just remembered I’ve left a huge pile of books downstairs that need attending to... repairs, shelving, you know, before I open up.’ His shirt was now buttoned up fully and he was already putting his waistcoat back on, making his way to the door as he did so.

‘Yes, thank you ever so much for coming over... wonderful night...’ he mumbled as he practically shepherded the demon out of the door.

Crowley still wore the confused expression. He turned back to Aziraphale, frowning.

‘You sure everything’s ok?’

‘Yes, of course, why wouldn’t it be?’ Aziraphale spoke a little shrilly.

Before Crowley had a chance to respond, he found himself on the landing, Aziraphale promising to call him later and telling him to see himself out through the shop as he closed the door on him. Crowley had half a mind to knock and call out to the angel inside demanding a proper explanation, but knew Aziraphale was best left alone when he was in these peculiar moods. Crowley sighed, took one last look at the door and trudged down the stairs. Whatever was on Aziraphale’s mind was clearly not up for discussion at the moment, and Crowley was not about to push it. He didn’t want to jeopardise their relatively new relationship by going too fast again.

When Aziraphale heard the front door of the bookshop close and the screech of the Bentley’s tyres as Crowley pulled away, he took a deep breath and steadied himself. Aziraphale hated lying to Crowley, but could not bring himself to entertain the thought of the alternative. He could never admit to being weak enough to still let Gabriel’s words taunt him after all this time, and knew Crowley would feel terribly guilty if he knew it was him that had inadvertently churned up the memory. He knew Crowley worried about him, and Aziraphale did not want to give him more cause to do so. He was better off keeping it to himself. _Something else best left unsaid._

Once he felt a little calmer and his head had stopped spinning, Aziraphale straightened up his waistcoat and headed downstairs, stopping at the door to put his favourite cream jacket on. He sighed, took a last look around the bookshop, and stepped out of the front door onto the busy Soho street, door locking itself behind him.

Aziraphale had no intention of opening his bookshop today.

He did not have to think about where he was going, his feet seemed to move of their own accord as his head swam with echoes of conversations he had had in Heaven. Most of which involved him being (dare he say) proud of a plan, or his completion of an assignment, only to be denigrated by one of the Archangels who seemed to take pleasure in reminding him he could have done better, or ignoring Aziraphale's hard work in favour of picking out minor faults instead.

Before long, the angel found himself at the familiar entrance to a park. Aziraphale walked up the path between the sweeping lawns, shoulders slightly hunched over, barely a giveaway of his distressed state. Lifting his head a little, he spotted the familiar shape of the bandstand through the fog that was beginning to roll in across the park, and headed straight towards it.

He often returned here when he was having a particularly miserable day, torturing himself with the memory of the events that had transpired here the previous year. He couldn't remember when exactly it had started; he had bickered with Crowley one day and found himself here, reminding himself what a terrible friend he was and how he most definitely did not deserve the demon's affections.

Afterwards, Aziraphale would return home, and potter around the bookshop alone. He would drink a bottle of wine, enough to numb the pain around the edges but not enough to get him drunk, then leave a voicemail for Crowley, apologising profusely and offering to take him out for dinner the following evening.

Crowley always accepted with an apology of his own thrown in for good measure, and it was not spoken about again. They would dine somewhere wonderful, Crowley would go back to the bookshop with Aziraphale for a nightcap, and they would fall back into their comfortable routine until something else triggered Aziraphale’s bad memories and the cycle began again.

He would never tell Crowley about this little ritual, because that would mean admitting exactly how bad things had got.

Aziraphale ran his hand along the rail of the bandstand, replaying the scene over and over in his head.

_'We're not friends... I don't even like you.'_

What had actually changed? Apart from their relationship becoming more physical, and them reaching a higher understanding of each other, they were still that same angel and demon that bickered and fell out and pushed each other away when they needed each other the most. The thought of asking the other for help was so against their respective celestial and demonic natures, it was as though it was ingrained in them to struggle.

And now Aziraphale's inability to share the thoughts that preyed on his own mind were once again threatening to cast a shadow over their relationship.

The angel had known that Crowley was different from the other Fallen ones ever since their first meeting in Eden. There truly was no one else like him. Crowley loved as deeply as any angel, although he hid it behind snide remarks, a casual outward demeanour and dark glasses, to preserve his reputation with Hell. Now, with no one watching or keeping track, he had been allowing this love, this _niceness_ to bleed through into his words and actions when he was alone with Aziraphale, and even on occasions when they had been out in public together. 

Aziraphale was somehow the opposite. He struggled to break his own stoic demeanour, afraid of being seen as soft. He _was_ soft though, deep down he always had been, but it was something that had been frowned upon by his fellow angels. He knew Crowley did not mind, in fact it was one of the many reasons he loved him. Able to hold his own when necessary yet convey a sense of vulnerability and innocence in his day to day life. However, six thousand years of conditioning and indoctrination proved to be extremely difficult to undo, and despite his flowery linguistics and extensive vocabulary, the angel had no idea how to explain this to Crowley.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled Aziraphale out of his spiralling thoughts. He straightened up and looked out over the gardens, waiting for the person to walk past before he allowed his mind to wander again.

The footsteps stopped a few feet away, and Aziraphale suddenly became aware of a celestial energy and started in alarm. Had he really been that preoccupied not to notice it before they approached?

'Well, fancy seeing you _here_ again. Last time it was just before Armageddon, am I right?'

Aziraphale froze, the jovial voice laced with false niceness sending a chill down his spine. _This can’t be happening. It’s just one of those bad dreams that Crowley talks about._

Aziraphale forced himself to turn around and found himself face to face with a grinning Gabriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for reading! This is my second Good Omens based fic, I'm still pretty new to all this. I'm challenging myself with this one; let me know what is/isn't working! It may be about a week until I post the next chapter, but more frequently after that hopefully, as I have a fair few bits of the later ones drafted already.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've managed to get this out a bit earlier than expected :) This chapter is a little dialogue heavy (ok quite a bit!) but should set things up for the next few chapters. Hope you enjoy!

_'Well, fancy seeing you_ here _again. Last time it was just before Armageddon, am I right?'_

Gabriel was here. Right in front of him. _Smiling_.

'Or should I say the 'day you foiled the Great Plan'?' The Archangel's eyes narrowed.

Eyes wide, Aziraphale stuttered 'I- I-...'

'I'm joking!' Gabriel exclaimed, beaming.

_This isn't real. This isn't right. What is he doing here? Why is he being so... friendly?_

The questions swam around Aziraphale's mind and remained unspoken as the Principality opened and closed his mouth, wanting to ask but the words refusing to form.

'So, are you going to ask what I'm doing here or what?' Gabriel held out his arms in a shrug. Aziraphale continued to stare, then managed to force out the sentence.

'What are you doing here?' He repeated the Archangel's words back to him dumbly, still too stunned to work out which of his own numerous questions he wanted to ask first.

'Glad you asked.' Gabriel paused. 'I'll cut to the chase. I'm here for you. No- not like that!' He added swiftly when alarm passed over Aziraphale's features. 'I'm here to see you. About a proposal.'

Aziraphale tried to gather himself. 'A proposal?'

'Indeed. Shall we go somewhere a little more private to talk?' Gabriel wrinkled his nose in the direction of a young boy and his father, who had settled on the grass a few feet away whilst they had been preoccupied with the reunion.

 _Please. Whatever you have to say, not here._ This place was his. It was sacred.

'Erm-' Aziraphale spluttered, his words not catching up with his racing mind.

'Excellent! I believe I saw somewhere to sit a little way up the path here.' Gabriel started to head down the steps and motioned for Aziraphale to follow. Aziraphale found his legs carrying him along without even thinking about it, and before he realised it they were heading around the corner towards a cast iron bench, a few metres away from a van selling cheap tea and coffee in little polystyrene cups.

_What if he's here to take me back to Heaven? What if it's a trap?_

Yet Gabriel did not seem to be here to harm Aziraphale.

What then?

'Won't you join me?' Aziraphale was snapped out of his thoughts and realised Gabriel had already taken a seat. He obeyed, ensuring there was a respectable distance between the two of them, and eyed Gabriel warily.

'You're... not here to take me back to Heaven.' It was a statement rather than a question.

'What? No, of course not! That's all in the past! All is forgiven.' Gabriel spoke the last word a little dramatically.

'Forgiven?' Aziraphale's eyebrows raised, his curiosity piqued.

Gabriel sighed. ‘Since the Almighty saw fit to allow you to stop the Great Plan without consequence... we thought perhaps that’s what was supposed to happen. I mean, if it wasn’t, She would have intervened, right?’

‘Without consequence?’ Aziraphale exclaimed indignantly, finally finding his voice. ‘I was given an execution with no trial! I’d hardly call that without consequence!’ Crowley and he had discussed in great length what had happened at their respective trials (or lack of, in Aziraphale’s case), precisely for this reason.

‘Except you weren’t though, were you? Executed, I mean. You’re sitting right here. Miraculously.’

‘But the point was I was supposed to be. If it were up to you, I wouldn’t be sitting here now.’

‘Well I guess it turned out it wasn’t up to me after all. That’s what I’m saying, Aziraphale. I think you’re right. Right about us not knowing the Almighty's plan... maybe Her allowing your survival, not making you Fall despite your very deliberate insubordination, is proof.’

‘The Ineffable Plan...’ Aziraphale spoke mostly to himself in little more than a whisper. He turned back to Gabriel. ‘Why now? What made you change your mind?’ He swallowed, a little nervous of the answer, a little nervous because this had to be a ruse, a ploy, a _game_.

Gabriel shifted uncomfortably. ‘The others... aren’t sure. It’s why I’m here, actually. You’re in agreement, right? You can imagine how hard it is trying to convince someone more... closed minded... Michael, Uriel, they’re proving more difficult to win over. Especially Michael. They don’t like change. I don't want to force them to accept it. I want to win them over, I want them to accept _you_.'

Aziraphale swallowed, contemplating the Archangel’s words. He did agree with Gabriel. Her plan was most likely... ineffable.

_Although wasn’t that what Aziraphale had thought all along?_

‘Besides...’ Gabriel continued, holding Aziraphale’s gaze with lilac eyes ‘...we’ve been a bit - concerned.’

‘Concerned about what?’ Aziraphale could barely believe Gabriel felt anything for him other than contempt, after six thousand years of making him feel inferior.

‘Well... don’t be angry, Aziraphale, I’m only telling you this because we want to consider your best interests. I’m worried about the demon. Crowley. About what he... wants with you.’

Aziraphale felt a blush creeping up his neck and a vague sense of _something_ mingled with irritation that Gabriel was bringing up his personal life, dragging Crowley into this. _Not shame._ He could never be ashamed of loving Crowley. It was more of a sense of being caught doing something you’re not supposed to do, despite it being a year since Heaven decided to leave him to it. Still, it wasn’t really much time at all for an eternal being.

‘Whatever do you mean? He’s not a threat... besides, as you know, we’re... acquainted.’ _Intimately._

‘You can’t be sure of that though. He is a demon, after all. What if he’s just trying to tempt you to Fall?’ Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. ‘Not that you’d succumb to such a temptation, of course,’ Gabriel added swiftly. ‘I’m just asking you to consider the possibility that he might only be trying to get close to you because you’re the only other celestial being on Earth. He hasn’t exactly got loads of options.’ Aziraphale looked positively indignant now. ‘Demons can’t love, Aziraphale.’ Gabriel have him a pitying look, and it was just _too much_. The dam broke, along with Aziraphale’s control.

‘How dare you! Crowley is _not_ like that! He wouldn’t - wouldn’t do something like that! So what if we’re friends? He’s shown me more kindness than anyone in Heaven has in a very long time!’

Gabriel held up his hands in surrender. ‘Aziraphale,’ he spoke cajolingly. ‘You misunderstand. I’m only asking you to consider the _possibility_ , for your own sake. I’m not saying that’s what he _is_ doing. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to think about it? It’s always best to prepare yourself for every eventuality.’

‘Like being executed by Hellfire?’ Aziraphale muttered grudgingly.

Another resounding sigh came from the Archangel. ‘That really wasn’t up to me. Do you really think I wanted that for you?’

‘Well, ‘shut your stupid mouth and die already’ doesn’t exactly sound like you _didn’t_ want it.’ Gabriel opened his mouth in an _oh_ , giving Aziraphale something of a stricken look. Aziraphale did not think he had ever witnessed such emotion from the usually restrained and generally apathetic Archangel.

‘Aziraphale. You say things you don’t mean in the heat of the moment.’ The irony was not lost on the Principality, who frowned a little. Gabriel continued. ‘There were procedures to follow, and I had to follow them whether I wanted to or not. The whole thing was awfully overwhelming. I couldn’t let you know how I really felt, I might not have had the stomach to go through with it if I had. I mean, we were losing one of our best angels! In that moment, I had to find a way to simplify it, and pretending to hate you was the easiest way. Not the nicest, obviously... but we figured it would quickly be forgotten.’ Of course he should not have survived to dwell on it.

‘But... you _do_ hate me.’

‘Aziraphale! How can you say that! Sure I might have been a bit hard on you occasionally, but no more so than the others. I wanted to make sure you stayed on track. You were too valuable to get sidetracked and demoted, or, Heaven forbid, Fall.’

Aziraphale’s head swam. This was news to him. He tried to recount the memories of the times he had been belittled, but Gabriel’s revelations were blurring the lines, making then hazy. Had he just been over sensitive? Blown things out of proportion in his head? He couldn’t sift through the thoughts but he could remember how he had _felt_ , even if he couldn’t remember the occasions themselves. Surely his feelings weren’t completely invalid?

The idea that Gabriel hadn’t singled him out for ridicule appeased him somewhat. But how could he be sure when he only had the Archangel’s word for it? Aziraphale knew Gabriel. He couldn’t recount a time when Gabriel had ever apologised. Didn’t talk about emotions, certainly - he had always been so passive, dismissing the Principality and his very real concerns. Now he supposed he had something of an explanation. A possible reason as to why he had been treated like this. It was a mirror image to the alternative that he had believed for so long. Yet if it was indeed true, it could be a chance to heal, to bind together the pieces of his fragmented soul.

Deep down, Aziraphale had a niggling feeling that wouldn’t go away. _Doubt._ It could be dangerous to ignore it, but oh so wonderfully easy just to take what Gabriel was saying as the truth without argument, without question. He had spent the past year feeling a sense of belonging when he was with Crowley, but this would be the metaphorical icing on the cake. This could make him _better_ for Crowley, make him less of a burden. This could make him _whole_.

Perhaps is he resolved things with his celestial family, his emotions would stop running away with him and trying to ruin their fledgling relationship.

Gabriel continued, realising that Aziraphale was too caught up in thought to respond.

‘There is someone I managed to get on side to back us with Michael and the others.’

‘Oh?’

Gabriel smiled again. All this... atypical benevolence was quite unnerving.

'He should be meeting us right about... now.’ As Gabriel spoke the last word, a shorter, stocky figure dressed head to toe in tan appeared around the corner, heading towards them.

‘Sandalphon?’ Aziraphale asked incredulously. They had hardly parted on friendly terms last time. Quite the opposite, in fact.

‘I know it’s hard to accept, but he was the easiest to talk around. Not the brightest, after all.’ Gabriel added with a whisper and exaggerated wink.

‘Sandalphon!’ The archangel stood to greet his colleague. ‘So glad you could make it.’

‘Likewise.’ The angel replied, with something of a strained smile. There was a pregnant pause.

Gabriel noticed Aziraphale’s apprehension at the arrival of Sandalphon and quickly filled the lull in conversation.

‘So, I know you two didn’t part on great terms last time, but we need to put that behind us now. Aziraphale, Sandalphon is going to work with us to get you back into Heaven’s ‘good books’.’ He emphasised the phrase.

 _When did it become_ us _?_ Aziraphale thought to himself.

‘We have a job for you.’ Sandalphon gave Aziraphale the pained smile again.

‘A- a job? I really don’t think-‘ Aziraphale was once again cut off by Gabriel’s interruption.

‘Don’t worry, it’s just a couple of blessings. Sandalphon here was going to do them but I’d hoped you would agree. After all, Earth is very much your domain and you do have a special connection with the humans. It would be more... effective if you were to carry them out.’

‘I- well-‘ Aziraphale did not know what to say. Everything was happening so quickly and he felt completely bewildered and out of his depth with this unexpected and frankly quite shocking development.

‘Great! That’s settled then. Now, on to the matter of the demon. I think it’s best if you keep this to yourself for now... we don’t want _down there_ getting wind of our plans.’

Aziraphale opened his mouth to say something, anything in Crowley’s defence, but Gabriel had started speaking again before he could intervene.

‘See, the thing is, Aziraphale... now you’re back in the fold-‘ the Principality began to protest ‘- _now you’re back in the fold,_ ’ Gabriel continued over him, more firmly this time.

‘ _They_ might try and do the same with Crowley, and... if he refuses...’ Gabriel gave Aziraphale a twisted sympathetic smile ‘they might threaten you, knowing the two of you are now...’ _together?_ ‘...associates.’ He struggled to hide a grimace. ‘If Crowley feels particularly strongly about this, there’s no way he’d not do something if it meant keeping you out of harm’s way, right?’

‘But... you said...’ Aziraphale spluttered, bewildered.

‘What’s that?’ Gabriel raised an eyebrow in question.

Aziraphale mumbled something incoherently, vaguely remembering something about demons not being able to love, and trying to make you Fall, but the words began fading from his memory almost as soon as they had entered it. Gabriel shook his head.

‘Get it together, Aziraphale! Come on. You’ve got so much going on you don’t know what to think any more. That’s where we come in. We will help you and guide you through any uncertainties. We are angels, after all. Like family.’ Gabriel gave Aziraphale a beaming smile.

‘Right, Sandalphon?’

‘Absolutely.’ The pained smile appeared again, like that and his perpetual sneer were his only two expressions.

‘There we go then!’ Gabriel clapped his hands together. ‘Onwards and forwards!’

‘It’s upwards,’ Sandalphon clipped.

‘Yeah, that. Exactly.’ Gabriel beamed at Aziraphale, whose head was spinning.

‘Right then, time to go. Aziraphale - we’ll be in touch by the end of the week with the details of the assignment. Enjoy your evening!’

Then Gabriel and Sandalphon disappeared in a flash of white light, leaving Aziraphale a confused mess on the bench, head swimming with uncertainty. Trying to sort out his thoughts was like sifting through mud, as he tried to separate what Gabriel had said in front of Sandalphon from what he had told Aziraphale prior to the meeting. He was so sure there was something contradictory there, he just couldn't put his finger on _what._

Aziraphale sighed in defeat, resting his elbows on his thighs and putting his head in his hands. Today’s ordeal had left him feeling mentally exhausted and doubting his own mind. Not to mention the complete shock of the apparent about-turn of Heaven's stance on the Great Plan. _Not Heaven's_ , he told himself. _Gabriel's_. He hadn't brought all of the angels round to his way of thinking yet.

It took him twenty minutes, a cup of tea from the little run-down van and the entire walk home before realising he had never actually agreed to the assignment in the first place.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the others, but 4 is nearly complete so won't be too long before that's out. Thank you to everyone sticking with me, hope you're enjoying it!

Five days had passed since the fateful meeting with Gabriel and Sandalphon, and Aziraphale remained as bewildered as ever over what had happened and why. Gabriel had given him such a straightforward explanation with great sincerity. Which is why there had to be a catch, something he was missing, something wrong.

He had no idea why he had found it all so easy to accept at the time, when he was understandably questioning everything about it now. Of course there was something _off_ about it all. This was Gabriel. There was no way he could possibly mean what he had said.

Aziraphale put it down to him having a trying day and already feeling discombobulated, with the Archangel catching him off guard and vulnerable. He had said what Aziraphale would have wanted to hear, should he have wished to reacquaint himself with Heaven in the first place. Except he didn't. The Principality's current feelings were shifting from uneasy anxiety to anger. Anger at himself, even more so than with Gabriel. _What had he done?_ Why, why didn't he pull himself together and intervene, why did he just _go along with it?_

He hadn't felt particularly afraid when Gabriel had turned up. He hadn't really felt anything, besides complete shock and confusion, so much confusion.

Aziraphale was unable to concentrate on the book he was perusing and returned it to the nearest pile with a heavy thump, making the two empty teacups and his favourite mug rattle. The angel made a mental note to tidy up later on. The flat was beginning to resemble the inside of his head; messily cluttered and not terribly well looked after at present.

He had remained in his bookshop out of sight for the last five days, avoiding opening up for customers and stewing over his thoughts and feelings.

Aziraphale had not contacted Crowley since.

Aziraphale was well aware that the demon would turn up at the bookshop at some point or other, giving him the space of a week or so to allow the angel time to gather himself before making contact. That was the way it always went, on the rare occasions he did not get in touch. Aziraphale needed to get his head together, to work out what he was going to say when Crowley did inevitably turn up, and decided it best to remain in control of what he would tell him and when. Aziraphale soon found himself dialling Crowley's number to arrange a lunch outing for the following day. That way, he knew he had the rest of today and half of tomorrow to formulate a plan, to think about just how much he was going to tell Crowley.

Aziraphale wanted to tell Crowley about what had happened, what Gabriel had told him. Yet somehow it felt too much of a betrayal, admitting he was considering allying himself with Heaven once more. They were supposed to be on their own side. _We are,_ the angel thought to himself. _I'm just healing the rift and then it'll all be fine. Things will be how they should be... no more wondering whether they'll be back for us again, no more nights spent worrying about whether I’m good enough, what I’m going to do wrong next._

He tried to convince himself he had made the best decision at the time. However, as his anger built, his mind seemed to clear, and after hours of going around in circles, Aziraphale came to his decision.

He was going to say no to Gabriel, and tell Crowley everything.

.........................................................................................................................................................................

At precisely half past twelve, the doorbell chimed and Aziraphale was ready, having decided what to tell Crowley. It was more than that, though. Aziraphale had decided that when Gabriel next made contact, he would be telling him in no uncertain terms that whatever he had been planning was off, and insist on being left alone. _That way, we both win_ , the angel thought. _I don't have to get involved and Gabriel doesn't have to waste his time trying to convince the other angels of something I want no part of_.

He would just have to figure out his recurring difficulties alone, paper over the cracks in his mind. It wasn't worth getting dragged back into the fold for. If it really came down to it, if he ended up losing Crowley, it could be through either avenue - because he could reject Aziraphale if he returned to working for Heaven, or could leave if the angel's issues became too much of a burden. At least if the latter were to occur he did not have to deal with more assignments and rules and tormentors. He would be left alone to wallow in his heartbreak.

The angel steeled himself for the difficult conversation that was to come, and opened the door.

'Hello, angel!' An unnaturally cheerful Crowley sauntered past Aziraphale and into the bookshop, a white cardboard box with black ribbon under his arm.

'Crowley! Good to see you.' Aziraphale attempted to inject a little joviality into his voice as he closed the door behind the demon. 'I made the reservation for one o'clock, if that's alright with you.'

'Sure. Here, I brought you something.' Crowley handed the box over, a delicious smell wafting from it. As Aziraphale took it, their hands brushed and he jumped a little at the unexpected contact. It was ridiculous, Aziraphale thought, after how intimate they had been not a week ago. But that was before. Now it felt as though Gabriel had already driven something between them, something that only Aziraphale knew about and felt. The angel felt distanced, not because he wanted to be, but because he told himself he must. He felt it iniquitous to dupe Crowley into thinking everything was fine right before he made his shattering revelation.

'Is it pastries?' Aziraphale asked, trying to distract Crowley from his peculiar reaction.

'Danishes. How ever did you guess?' Crowley grinned, and the angel could not help but smile back. Crowley knew him so well. He simply adored the delicious sweet treats.

'Freshly baked, too. Just the way you like them.'

'Oh, thank you my dear. You're ever so kind.'

''m not.' Crowley muttered, shooting Aziraphale a dark look from behind his glasses.

'Yes, you are. You're wonderful and kind and I simply love you for it.' Aziraphale exclaimed before he could stop himself. His heart swelled when he was around Crowley, and he always felt the compulsion to shower the demon with love and praise, especially when he did something thoughtful like this. He tried to push down the feeling to stop himself becoming overcome with affection. This was not how this was supposed to be going.

_Arms length. Just until you tell him._

Assuming Crowley would still want him after he told him.

This was the thought that now surfaced, the one that Aziraphale had pushed to the back of his mind, the avenue which he had refused to explore when he had been mulling over what to do. The knowledge that Aziraphale had come so close to working for Gabriel again might be enough to cause Crowley to reject him in disgust, Now, faced with the stark reality of it, of potentially losing the one person who made him feel so wonderfully loved, he was unsure whether he could really go through with it and break both their hearts in the process.

Surely if he just said no to Gabriel and cut his ties once more, Crowley need not know about any of it, no harm done?

Before Aziraphale could contemplate any more, he found himself pulled into a kiss, firm and demanding yet so full of love. It was Crowley's way of telling him his comments were most certainly appreciated despite his initial dissent, without actually admitting it out loud.

Aziraphale allowed himself to lean into the kiss, focusing on the sensation of Crowley's lips on his instead of his runaway thoughts.

'Right, I think we'd better get a move on before I get carried away,' Crowley broke the kiss and smirked.

_Tell him now. Tell him, before you lose your nerve._

He couldn't.

Aziraphale smiled despite himself. He set the box of pastries down on his desk, and followed the demon out of the bookshop.

Neither of them noticed the flash of grey overcoat as its wearer disappeared swiftly around the corner as they emerged and climbed into the Bentley.

.........................................................................................................................................................................

After a delicious lunch at a lovely little Italian restaurant that Aziraphale favoured, Crowley dropped him off outside the door of his bookshop.

'Thank you once again, my dear. We simply must go there again, the tiramisu was divine.'

'Yes, the bit I had was rather tasty.' Crowley drawled, giving Aziraphale a sly smile. He was, of course, referring to the bit of cream he had sampled that lingered on Aziraphale's lips after he had finished. Crowley had made sure the rest of the diners were preoccupied with their own meals before kissing it from the angel's lips.

'Oh behave, you wily serpent.' Aziraphale attempted to look shocked, but the mock admonishment was soon accompanied by his own smirk.

'So... will you call? Or shall I pop in?' Crowley never stayed the night after their first rendezvous after Aziraphale had one of his _moments_ , the angel's words from fifty-odd years ago an uncomfortable reminder in the back of his memory that he might be going too fast too soon.

'I'll give you a call, I suppose. Tomorrow?'

'Tomorrow.' Crowley smiled up at his angel as he reached the step, Aziraphale leaning down to press one last kiss to his lips before he entered the bookshop.

As Crowley got back into the Bentley, he thought the angel seemed a little better, less anxious. Still not quite right, though. There was something the matter with Aziraphale that he just could not put his finger on.

Behind the door, Aziraphale leaned against it and rested his head back against the covered window. He let out a sigh, and was thinking about whether to be cross with himself for being so cowardly or ashamed that he had put his own comfort before being honest, when he noticed a white scroll tied with gold ribbon sitting on his desk next to the box of pastries.

Gabriel had sent a message.

.........................................................................................................................................................................

It would seem there was no getting out of it. Aziraphale would have to carry out the assignment before Gabriel would return to confer with him.

Running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that evening, Aziraphale had come to the conclusion that perhaps the Archangel had done this deliberately so there would be no way of wriggling his way out of it. Gabriel knew that Aziraphale would not break his word, not when it came to the humans. He wouldn't risk what could happen to them should he simply decide not to do it. Although it was far less than he would often do previously, just a couple of blessings this time, it could impact the decisions and therefore the whole life of someone. Aziraphale was well aware that unlike celestial beings, humans had limited time on Earth, and he always wanted the best for them during their short lives.

The angel sighed and groaned inwardly. He would have to phone Crowley tonight and put him off for tomorrow, and hope he did not question him too much about it. Tomorrow, he was back to his old duties.

.........................................................................................................................................................................

There was another scroll.

Aziraphale had just returned from performing the blessings to find it sat there on the desk, in the same place as the last time.

He had entered the bookshop, turning on lamps with a wave of his hand - something he would have been wary of being reprimanded for _before_. Aziraphale had enjoyed using miracles more frivolously since his expulsion from Heaven; it had both made his life easier and made him feel _free,_ each time he turned on the lights or miracled himself a cup of cocoa when he was far too engrossed in a book to go to the kitchen.

In the lamplight, Aziraphale had happened to glance through the door to the back room which he had left ajar. The glint of the gold ribbon had caught his eye, and his heart sank. He had not expected another reminder of his unfortunate situation so soon after walking through the door. 

The note explained that Gabriel would be back to see him in five days, and he was pleased with Aziraphale for carrying out his assignment so efficiently. Or so it said.

Aziraphale felt sick reading the Archangel's words. Part of him had hoped that Gabriel would decide the whole thing was a lost cause and forget about it, using him for this one assignment then dismiss him, letting him get on with things. He knew it was highly unlikely though, and reading the Archangel's words, it seemed the opposite was the case. Gabriel seemed even more determined to get him on side now than before. He wanted Aziraphale for another assignment in two weeks time.

Gabriel would be back to see him in five days, and he was pleased with Aziraphale for carrying out the task. Or so it said.

Aziraphale felt sick reading the Archangel's words. Part of him had hoped that Gabriel would decide the whole thing was a lost cause and forget about it, using him for this one assignment and letting him get on with things. He knew it was highly unlikely, and reading the Archangel's words, it seemed the opposite was the case. Gabriel seemed even more determined to get him on side now than before. He wanted him for another assignment in a week's time.

The only saving grace was that now Aziraphale would have the opportunity to decline beforehand, meaning it could be delegated to Sandalphon or another angel and the humans would not of course be any the wiser.

Until Gabriel turned up, Aziraphale would have to grit his teeth and try to carry on as normal. He couldn't make Crowley suspicious. 

_Five days_. He could get through it. It was no time at all really, for an angel. As long as he didn't let anything slip, say anything that could give away the fact that he was anxious about something, he would be fine. He had to be, for Crowley's sake. For their sake, and the sake of their relationship.

Aziraphale refused to sacrifice the one thing he had longed for, the one person he loved the most besides Her; no, more than Her, should he dare to admit it. He would tell himself it was blasphemy as his feelings for Crowley continued to grow stronger, but he had not Fallen because of it. He was still here, still an angel, and even if he could not say it out loud, his heart knew the truth. 

Aziraphale refused to sacrifice all of this because of _yet another_ stupid decision on his part. He would put this right, no matter the cost.

.........................................................................................................................................................................

The Archangel Michael stood at the huge transparent window, deep in thought. Footsteps approached, and Uriel came to stand side by side with them. The other angel turned to whisper something in Michael’s ear. Never taking their eyes away from the window, Michael frowned and spoke bitterly.

‘He’s a bloody fool if he still thinks he could ever return to his old position after all this.’

There was a brief pause. ‘Do you think the Almighty will intervene?’ Uriel asked quietly.

Michael finally turned to face Uriel, their expression hardened.

‘When was the last time She did? For all we know? She’s not been in direct contact.’

‘What if he carries on-‘ Uriel began, before being cut off by Michael.

‘We can only do what we can. He’s strayed too far from the path for us to turn a blind eye. We had to follow procedures. If we find out he's carrying on... there will have to be consequences'.

The two stood in silence for a few moments before Uriel excused herself for her duties and walked away.

Alone once again, Michael turned back to the window and sighed, their expression softening, regret settling on their features once more.

Things had changed in Heaven.


	4. Chapter Four

Something strange was happening to Aziraphale.

He had been so sure of himself, and felt almost confident in his decision to tell Gabriel he would no longer be working for him and would actually rather be left alone.

So why did all of this change as soon as he laid eyes on the Archangel?

When Gabriel turned up at the bookshop and started conversing with Aziraphale, he had felt the familiar feeling of confusion creep up on him, the same one he had felt when they had met over a week ago in the first instance. Once again, Gabriel’s crooning, cajoling voice had led to Aziraphale accepting without really thinking almost every word the Archangel said.

Which was how he found himself sat in one of his favourite coffee shops a few streets away from the bookshop, sipping tea that wasn’t nearly sweet enough, with Gabriel sat at the table opposite him.

Aziraphale could barely recall how he had got there, just that Gabriel had suggested it ( _unusual_ , he thought, since the Archangel had usually been averse to places like this, as well as food and drink in general). Once more, his feet had moved of their own accord as he walked side by side with Gabriel, letting him do all the talking. _It was better this way_. Less opportunity for him to say something _foolish_ , or, God forbid, _compromising_.

Now Gabriel was talking about how well he had done, how pleased he was with Aziraphale’s work, how he was looking forward to seeing what clever ideas the Principality had for the blessings he would be performing in the next couple of weeks.

Aziraphale was trying to desperately hold on to the thought that was _Crowley_ , that this was a _betrayal_ , that he was supposed to be rebuffing Gabriel... but his head was swimming with the alluring idea of him being accepted, being offered another chance despite his previous transgressions.

_Crowley. Think about Crowley._

Aziraphale inhaled, trying to resist the enticing thoughts and focus on his love for the demon, finding it all rather fuzzy around the edges. He clung to the memory of the other afternoon, of warm embraces and soft kisses and that profound feeling of adoration that welled up inside him each time Crowley did something nice for him. Aziraphale tried to pull out some words he had prepared in his head, but found them disintegrated, pulled apart and drowning under the sea of Gabriel’s promises.

The little bell above the door tinkled, and within moments, Sandalphon stood before them.

‘Why are we meeting -‘ Sandalphon turned his head to look around the cafe, screwing up his face in disgust ‘-here?’ He finished with a sneer. Gabriel gave him a reproachful look.

‘Hey, come on now, Sandalphon. It’s one of Aziraphale’s favourites, he insisted. He’s not wrong, the tea’s delightful.’ Gabriel spoke jovially, gesturing towards the tea he had yet to pour.

_Wait... I thought... Gabriel’s idea?_ Aziraphale’s mind felt foggy as it floundered, trying to recall exactly how their earlier conversation had gone, how they had ended up here. He was so sure he would not have suggested it, knowing how Gabriel and Sandalphon felt about such establishments.

‘I take it everything’s going to plan, then?’ Sandalphon asked as he sat down.

‘Oh, yes. Aziraphale did a marvellous job last week, and I’ve got another one lined up for him.’

_Say no, tell him now before things get too far._ A tiny voice spoke in the back of Aziraphale’s head, but it was quickly swamped by the awful, familiar fuzziness. He heard Gabriel speak again, but it was as though he was underwater, unable to hear things clearly.

‘And what of the demon? Is he aware?’ Aziraphale heard Sandalphon ask.

‘No! I haven’t told him a thing!’ Aziraphale protested, anxiety mounting. He resisted shaking his head in an attempt to clear it.

‘Good. Because if he becomes a problem...’ the Principality heard the warning in Sandalphon’s voice.

_Snap out of it._ Crowley. _They’re talking about Crowley. Focus!_

Before he could gather himself, there was a loud crash behind him. Aziraphale turned sharply, and saw a flash of red hair, a black leather jacket... if he was human, he would have described the following feeling as his heart stopping.

At the same time, the smell of the spilt black coffee filled Aziraphale’s nose. It reminded him of Crowley, of him sipping it during dessert at the Ritz, of them sitting in his flat as they drank and chatted, of Aziraphale taking a mug through to the bedroom and handing it to his beloved as he woke him with a kiss to the forehead in the morning...

A wave of clarity washed over him, and the sensation hit Aziraphale as though he had been suddenly woken from a stupor, quickly becoming very aware of where he was and what was going on, grounding him.

The red headed figure behind him stood back up, the pieces of a broken mug in his hand. _Not Crowley._ The young man uttered an apology to the woman at the counter as she approached him with a wad of cleaning cloths.

Mind now sharpened, Aziraphale remembered clearly what his plan was and what he had been going to say. The angel realised he had to strike while the iron was hot, to say what he needed to before he inevitably lost himself again. He turned back to Gabriel and Sandalphon.

‘Anyway, look, Gabriel... while I’m very grateful for this opportunity, I can’t help but feel it’s not really of benefit to either of us.’

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, surprise flickering over his face then disappearing again almost as quickly as it had appeared. 

‘It’s just, I’m rather content here on Earth without working for Heaven... and I’m sure it would save you a lot of hassle from everyone else, without having to work so hard to convince everyone of my usefulness.’ Aziraphale swallowed and gathered his courage. ‘I’ve decided I no longer want any involvement in this... _arrangement_.’ The word felt so wrong, using it in this context.

‘You have, have you?’ Gabriel asked darkly. Aziraphale tried not to shiver, tried not to show his nervousness at the Archangel's tone.

‘That’s right. I completed your assignment the other week, but I won’t be doing any more. ‘ The Principality tried to sound confident in the face of his former superior.

‘That’s a shame. I had hoped you would be more... amenable to our little plan.’ Gabriel’s expression was unreadable.

‘It’s not that I’m not grateful, I do appreciate what you were trying to do for me.’ Aziraphale interjected, hoping he was coming across as sincere.

‘Obviously you don’t, otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?’ Gabriel spoke sharply now and Aziraphale tried not to wince.

‘Is it to do with the demon?’ Sandalphon interrupted. Aziraphale had almost forgotten he was there; the tension building between himself and Gabriel had become quite intense. 

‘What- no! Of course not! Absolutely not, nothing to do with him!’ Aziraphale blurted out much too quickly.

‘Doesn’t sound like it from where I’m sitting.’ Sandalphon smirked.

‘This has _nothing_ to do with Crowley! Leave him out of it! This was my decision!’ Aziraphale tried to hold back his outburst, but found he could not. He would not stand for Crowley being dragged in to this.

‘Oh, I think it’s got everything to do with him.’ Gabriel’s voice was dangerously soft. ‘In fact, he’s the reason why you most definitely _will_ be continuing your work for us.’

Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth, fear suddenly gripping him.

‘You see, if you don’t carry out your instructions as we see fit, we’ll have no choice but to intervene... it’s for your own good, after all. And if we’re forced to intervene, well... it might not be so good for Crowley. He might find himself...’

‘On a one way ticket back to Hell.’ Sandalphon added, his smirk growing.

Aziraphale gaped. ‘You wouldn’t! You _can’t!_ ’

‘Oh, we can and we will. Unless you toe the line, of course. Then your demon friend will be safe. But if you don’t-‘

‘So as long as I work for you, Crowley won’t be harmed?’ Aziraphale cut in, desperate for clarity, for a definite answer.

‘Exactly. You have my word. I did warn you before, that he might be... at risk.’

‘Not from _you_ though! I thought you meant from _downstairs_! I thought you wanted-‘

‘What? To welcome you back with open arms? It’s not quite as simple as that, Aziraphale.’

‘But... you made me think...’ Aziraphale trailed off, his anger mixing with a hint of sadness.

‘Oh, I can _make you think_ a lot of things.’

.................................................................................................................................................................................................

A short while later, Sandalphon and Gabriel stood inconspicuously on the street corner outside the coffee shop.

‘What did you think of that, then?’ The shorter of the two asked.

‘Interesting...’ Gabriel mused, more to himself than the other angel.

‘Which bit?’

‘I knew he was _consorting_ with the demon, but it would seem it goes further than that.’

‘You think they’re... friends?’ Sandalphon pulled a disgusted face.

‘Oh, they’re more than that alright. The human who dropped the cup, the one who looked like him from the back...’ Gabriel cut himself off. He was sure that had something to do with it, something to do with the Principality’s little epiphany. Gabriel continued.

‘Did you see Aziraphale’s face when we threatened him? He was more concerned about the demon’s safety than his own. He’s really shown his hand there.’

‘Surely he’ll Fall if that’s the case?’

‘He should have! But, seeing as the Almighty has failed to intervene to stop this absurdity, it's down to me - to us - to deal with it. Aziraphale could have done this the easy way, but from that little outburst in there it looks like we’ll have to force his hand.’

‘Already? Don’t you want to-‘

Gabriel cut Sandalphon off impatiently.

‘We’re running out of time. Aziraphale has become... unstable. Things aren't going to work out as we planned if _this_ keeps happening. We don’t want Michael stepping in and ruining things. I need you to get in touch with our contact downstairs. _Today_.’ Gabriel’s voice took on a warning tone, and Sandalphon knew better than to argue.

‘Right you are. When do we make our move?’

‘As soon as it’s ready.’

.................................................................................................................................................................................................

Heart racing, Aziraphale slammed the front door of the bookshop shut behind him, locking it. _Crowley..._ he had to check on Crowley, make sure he was alright, make sure Gabriel hadn’t already broken his promise to stay away from him unless Aziraphale gave him cause to do so. Hands shaking, the angel dialled Crowley’s number.

Thankfully, the demon answered on the second ring.

‘Angel! Everything ok?’

_Thank goodness, you’re alright... no, its not, it’s all wrong... I’ve been so stupid..._

‘Crowley! You’re there.’ Aziraphale tried to keep the relief from his voice when he heard Crowley answer. ‘I’m fine, all fine here.’

Clearly Aziraphale had not tried hard enough.

‘You don’t sound fine. Has something happened?’ His concerned tone nearly broke the angel.

_I don’t deserve your concern. I don’t deserve you. You should hate me._

‘I- no- it’s just-‘ Aziraphale was, unusually lost for words. If he started saying too much, or anything at all really, he was afraid he might dissolve into tears right there on the phone.

‘Right, I’m coming over. Be there in a jiffy.’

‘No! No, you don’t need to do-‘ but Crowley had already hung up, which meant Aziraphale had about five minutes to compose himself.

Smoothing down his waistcoat out of nervousness rather than necessity, Aziraphale’s eyes darted around the shop, checking whether anything was out of place or looked unusual. Remembering Gabriel’s notes, he rushed to his desk and opened the drawer. There they lay at the top, the white paper stark against the yellower ancient manuscripts below. The angel grabbed them, shoving them to the bottom of the drawer in a panic and locking it closed. It was irrational of course, as Crowley was highly unlikely to ever have reason to look in there for anything, but Aziraphale was beginning to panic.

_What else_ , he thought, whirling around, flustered. He suddenly remembered the state of the flat, and made a dash for the stairs. At the same time, the doorbell rang, causing Aziraphale to freeze before he had even set foot on the bottom step.

Before he could make the split second decision to answer the door or miracle the mess away upstairs, Crowley pushed open the somehow now unlocked door.

‘It’s not terribly polite to just walk in when someone's locked the door, you know.’ Aziraphale grumbled, irritated that he had just missed his opportunity.

‘You don’t usually complain, angel.’ Crowley teased, giving him a peck on the lips before looking around the shop. Nothing unusual seemed amiss, but his instincts told him there was definitely something the matter, and he was determined not to leave until he had found out what it was.

‘So, are you going to invite me up?’ Crowley looked expectantly at Aziraphale over the top of his glasses.

The angel squirmed, having been dreading the question.

‘Of course, of course. After you, my dear.’

Aziraphale dithered behind Crowley as they climbed the stairs, wondering whether he would be able to perform a quick miracle without the demon noticing. He decided against it. Perhaps Crowley wouldn't even notice anything was unusual; after all he would often have piles of books around the place for browsing at his leisure.

Once inside, Crowley looked around the sitting room, eyeing the empty cups and haphazardly stacked books on the little table.

'Aziraphale... what's going on?' A concerned look passed over the demon's features as the angel entered and closed the door.

'Oh, you know... just a bit of light reading. Not much, really. Just got a bit carried away and forgot to clean up.' Aziraphale’s voice took on a higher pitch, despite him trying to sound convincing.

'Forgot to clean up? Angel, in all the time I've known you, you've never...' Crowley trailed off and stepped closer, holding his arms out to Aziraphale. 'Come here,' he said softly.

Then Aziraphale leaned forwards and found himself wrapped in the demon's arms, the embrace full of love and trust and longing. Crowley wanted to _help_ him. Wanted to be there for him. He clung to Crowley tightly as though he could slip through his arms at any moment, face buried in the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. Aziraphale wished he could stay here, like this, for eternity.

After a while, though not nearly long enough for Aziraphale's liking, Crowley broke the embrace. Noticing his angel's look of disappointment at the loss of contact, he quickly placed his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders, stroking down his upper arms. Once Crowley felt Aziraphale start to relax again, he lifted a hand to take off his glasses, tossing them onto one of the piles of books. Cupping Aziraphale's cheek, he gently tilted the angel's head up so he could meet his eyes.

'I want you to tell me, Aziraphale. Tell me what's wrong. Whatever it is, whatever you need. _I'm here_.'

Aziraphale felt the tears welling in his eyes, a lump forming in his throat. All he could manage was a whisper.

'Hold me. Please.' _Tell me it's going to be ok. Tell me I don't have to face this alone. Let me pretend I’m not a bad angel, and an even worse friend._

With that he was back in Crowley's arms, the demon's hands gently brushing his back, soothing, calming, as Aziraphale’s breathing turned shallow, trying to hold back the sobs. Crowley knew, he could feel the attempt by the angel to stop his trembling.

'Let it out, angel... just let it out. I'm not going anywhere.'

With that, Aziraphale let the tears flow freely as he sobbed hopelessly into Crowley's shirt.

It was a breakthrough.

A minor one, but a breakthrough nonetheless. Aziraphale had never allowed himself to display his more negative emotions like this in front of Crowley, but now he found himself unable to hold back. Crowley had told him he was there for him, encouraged him to let go, _asked_ him to. Aziraphale wanted to, deep down, and now that he had affirmation from Crowley that he could, it was all he needed.

Aziraphale clung tightly to Crowley as he cried with desperation for the impossible situation he had stupidly got himself into, cried because he had unwittingly betrayed his best friend and lover, cried because he did not want any of it and deep down knew he never really did. The angel simply had no idea how to get himself out of it. He was trapped, and Crowley had unknowingly been the leverage. Aziraphale had ended up putting Crowley in danger; something which he had promised himself he would never do, and had spent over six thousand years holding his demon at arm’s length to prevent it, only for it to happen when they thought they were finally safe. He had put Crowley in danger, and now Gabriel was going to use him as a tool to keep Aziraphale in line.

It was all so wrong. This should be _their_ time. If Aziraphale had not let his emotions get the better of him, if he could have just had a little more _confidence_ without needing Gabriel’s validation, and a little less desire to keep everyone happy (which of course never ended well) none of this might have happened.

Now all he could do was cling tightly to Crowley in the sitting room of his flat, holding him so closely as though to shield him from some imaginary force that threatened to prise them apart at any moment. Only it wasn’t imaginary. The threat was very real, and it came in the form of Gabriel.

.................................................................................................................................................................................................

Aziraphale woke still almost fully dressed in Crowley’s arms, his lover stroking his hair. Unlike Crowley he very rarely slept, though he had been indulging more and more lately, usually when his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. As he stirred, Crowley pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

‘How are you feeling now, angel?’

Aziraphale swallowed. ‘I’m not sure.’ He said slowly. Everything was still so real, too real. He wanted to curl into Crowley and stay there, shutting the outside world out, or more specifically, shutting Gabriel out.

‘That’s ok. It’s ok. We can stay here as long as you like.’ Crowley soothed, hands stroking down the angel’s back. Aziraphale felt choked again. He had to tell Crowley now. Had to warn him... warn him that he was in danger because of him.

‘Crowley...’ the angel whispered.

A ring of the doorbell caused him to jump with panic and sit bolt upright. _What if it’s him?_

‘Aziraphale. It’s ok, it’ll just be a customer. They’ll go away in a minute.’ Crowley sat up next to the angel, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

‘Of course, yes. Just a customer.’ Aziraphale forced a small smile. ‘Sorry, my dear. Still a bit on edge, it seems.’

‘We haven’t really talked about it...’ Crowley began. The other afternoon, after Aziraphale had broken down in Crowley’s arms, Crowley had managed to convince the angel to lie down with him and take a nap. Aziraphale had ended up sleeping for almost forty eight hours, which was most unusual and caused Crowley no end of worry. He was beginning to wonder if this wasn’t the first time this had happened, whether Aziraphale had been having these _moments_ for a while. In a way it made sense, the pushing him away, the sudden excuses for him to leave, the days of silence after a disagreement... although Crowley didn’t know what triggered it, he thought he had figured the general problem out.

His thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell ringing again.

‘I’ll get rid of them,’ Crowley muttered, attempting to get up off the bed.

‘No! I’ll go!’ Aziraphale was quickly up and on his feet and making his way towards the door before Crowley could say another word. ‘Might be something important, something about those new first editions that came in last week,’ he added. _Just in case,_ he thought.

Aziraphale made his way down the stairs, anxiety mounting. He told himself there was no reason to worry, that Gabriel would not be back until he was needed. In any case, he highly doubted the Archangel would bother ringing the bell a second time. Most likely he would simply walk in.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

.................................................................................................................................................................................................

Upstairs, Crowley reclined on the bed waiting for his angel to return. He had done a lot of thinking in the time Aziraphale had been asleep, a lot of which consisted of what could be causing the angel to have these moments. _How long had they been going on for? Was it recent? Just after Armageddon? Before?_

Crowley's own issues seemed to stem from one of two things; his Fall and the angel's burning bookshop. Shortly after Armageddon, he had almost given up sleeping because of the frequent nightmares of Aziraphale being discorporated or worse, killed in the fire. Fortunately, it was not long before they found themselves sharing a bed, and with it, his problem that was now sleeping. Aziraphale had discovered it when Crowley had dozed off in his arms without meaning to; the demon had awoke thrashing around and crying out for Aziraphale. They had talked until dawn had broken, Crowley sharing some of his most intimate thoughts with the angel. Yet somehow Aziraphale had never really gone into depths about his own problems, focusing instead on telling Crowley how much he meant to him and outwardly being overly positive. This was, of course, greatly appreciated by the demon, but he did wish Aziraphale would sometimes be a little more open about other things. The way the angel would occasionally gaze off into the distance, or seem overly flustered - or the complete opposite, for example. He would try to hide it but Crowley always _saw_ , but said nothing for fear of pushing Aziraphale into sharing things he was not ready for. 

Crowley sighed, running a hand through his flaming hair. He was determined that this time he would be more firm, and have faith that his angel would not push him away again when they would have the inevitable discussion. Aziraphale had to open up. Whatever feelings he was keeping locked away were eating him up, and Crowley was not going to let him continue suffering like this. At least not alone. 

Without warning, a crackle of energy filled the air, causing Crowley to freeze when he recognised the feeling. It lingered for a few seconds, and was gone. _Celestial energy. Shit. It_ can't _be._

Crowley was on his feet, flinging open the door and taking the steps two at a time before he could even coherently process his thoughts. Once downstairs, the silence in the bookshop was deafening.

'Angel?' Crowley called, anxiously awaiting a response. When none came, he grew panicked. 'Aziraphale?'

The shop lay empty, yet Aziraphale's jacket remained on the coat stand by the door. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the violence comes in... it's not terribly graphic, more implied than anything else, but there is a bit. I have to admit, this sort of thing is really not my strong point, so sorry if it's not quite up to scratch!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been reading... the next chapter is mostly written so should be out soon, then the others shouldn't take too long as they get fluffier with plenty of comfort which is so much easier to write!

There was no one there. 

Aziraphale almost sighed with relief. For a split second, he had half expected to find Gabriel on the doorstep after his unpredictable reaction the other day. He certainly no longer trusted the Archangel to keep his word. 

People were milling up and down the street, but no one seemed interested in Aziraphale as he stepped out and glanced up and down. Whoever it was had gone, thank goodness. Probably just a customer who had either not taken any notice of the sign, or not really understood it. Aziraphale took a deep breath and turned back to head inside, dreading the conversation that was about to come to pass between him and Crowley. 

As the angel took a step forward, he felt something - or _someone_ \- grasp his upper arm in a vice-like grip. Before he could cry out, a flash of white light surrounded him, blinding him.

The door of the bookshop swung on its hinges in the breeze, causing the little bell above the door to tinkle an eerie, echoing sound throughout the empty shop. Out on the street, people went about their business, chatting to each other, not noticing the flash or the sudden disappearance of the eccentric bookshop owner.

Aziraphale had been taken.

...........................................................................................................................

Crowley was frantic.

He had felt the sudden burst of celestial energy, and now Aziraphale was gone. The fact that he had not even so much as taken his coat suggested his disappearance was involuntary. The angel would never have left without it, and it was highly unlikely he would have left without saying anything to Crowley. 

The one thing that was telling him that Aziraphale was in trouble, that he had unwillingly been taken by some force of Heaven, was his intuition. Crowley could sense something of a buzz of energy lingering in the air by the door, presumably where the angelic activity had occurred. 

He paced fretfully, muttering curses under his breath and giving the occasional exasperated shout. 

As Crowley happened to stride past the door to the back room he felt a peculiar sensation, as though something was compelling him to enter, a possible clue perhaps? The demon stopped for a moment and paused, controlling his runaway thoughts enough to focus on the strange energy that seemed to radiate from the room. Pushing the door open, his eyes were immediately drawn to Aziraphale's antique desk. It was as though an invisible force was driving him towards it; Crowley somehow immediately knew there was something in there that would provide him with some sort of answer. 

With a snap of the demon's fingers, the drawer opened. 

Crowley lifted out a pile of ancient manuscripts, faded and yellowed by time. It was at the bottom. He was getting nearer, he could sense it. His fingers brushed a different material as he reached down, and he pulled out the now neatly folded pieces of paper, allowing the gold ribbon that was draped over them to fall to the floor. 

He opened the paper, hardly daring to breathe. He knew whatever was written on these would guide him to what had happened, but he also knew it was nothing good. 

Crowley began to read, and as he did so his legs gave way and he sank to the floor. 

...........................................................................................................................

The angel awoke, aching all over, in what seemed to be a huge dingy outbuilding made of stone. He lay there, letting the pain subside for a moment before pushing himself up with shaking arms, climbing unsteadily to his feet. _What happened?_ One minute he had been at his front door, the next... this. As he raised his head and looked around, a sense of dread crept over him. 

Gabriel was standing silently a few feet away from him, arms folded, completely expressionless.

‘Gabriel! Where are we, why have you brought me here?’ Aziraphale tried to keep his voice even and fought down the beginnings of fear to ask the question, casting a wary look around the dimly lit room. It was a far cry from Heaven’s sterile, bright environment. 

Gabriel acknowledged him coolly. ‘We are here,’ he began, ‘because you have no place in Heaven anymore.’ He gave Aziraphale a disdainful smirk, his voice laced with mock pity. ‘Did you _really_ think we wanted you back upstairs?’ 

Aziraphale swallowed, gathering his courage. ‘Well, I did have my doubts.’ 

_Keep him talking. Keep him occupied, and look for a way out._

‘You did. You knew all along. But a part of you wanted it to be true. That’s what made it all so easy.’ Gabriel gave a mocking chuckle.

Aziraphale frowned, distracted from his attempt to scope out the room. 'Made what so easy?'

'Getting you to do what I wanted. It always works better when you can play on a feeling that's already there, no matter how small.' Gabriel smirked.

'What do you mean? What works better?'

'Well, what would you call the Heavenly equivalent of _temptation_?'

Aziraphale was stunned.

'You - you were... trying to _control my mind_?' He questioned in disbelief. 

'Not exactly. More like _manipulate_ it. Make it... _pliable_ , in order to get you to follow my instructions.'

 _So_ that _was how he had ended up feeling confused, feeling fuzzy, mind telling him it was easier to cooperate._

'What information are you referring to?' Aziraphale asked sharply. He racked his brain, trying to figure out if he had unwittingly given Gabriel something that could compromise himself or Crowley. 

'All in good time.' Gabriel gave him that smirk again, the one that promised nothing good would come of this.

...........................................................................................................................

Crowley sat on the floor of the backroom with his head in his hands. 

He refused to believe Aziraphale had betrayed him. It had to be a mistake. 

_He always said you were on opposite sides_ , his mind reminded him unhelpfully. _There was always a part of him that belonged to Heaven, you should have known you would never be good enough for him. He is an angel, after all. You've never been_ worthy _._

'Shut up, _SHUT UP!_ ' Crowley threw his head back and shouted, trying to drown out the voice in the back of his head. 

_Think_ , he told himself. _Think about it._

Perhaps Heaven had been manipulating the angel... it wouldn't be the first time Aziraphale had been double crossed by someone he thought he could trust. But why was he meeting with Gabriel and going on assignments? 

Crowley forced himself to run through the most likely scenarios. _Gabriel had threatened him_... maybe, although after everything they had been through, it was unlikely Aziraphale would have been fearful enough of the Archangel to go back to working for him. _His weaknesses... they would have used his weaknesses_ , Crowley thought. _The humans?_ Unlikely, as Aziraphale would probably have confided in Crowley so they could work together to find a way - _ah_.

Crowley came to the sudden realisation. Aziraphale's weakness was _him_.

If Gabriel had threatened to harm Crowley, Aziraphale would have kept quiet so as not to worry him or out of fear of retribution from the Archangel for revealing his plans. 

Crowley knew then, deep down in his heart, that Aziraphale would not have done any of this to spite him, or because he didn't love him, or even because he wanted to return to Heaven. This was not Aziraphale's choice.

He had to find him. But how? 

Crowley slumped down in the chair at the desk, resting his head in his hands. 

_Oh, angel. If only you could hear me. Send me a sign, something, anything to let me know you're alright._

Somewhere, in the middle of a secluded patch of countryside in a long abandoned outbuilding, Aziraphale heard Crowley's voice echo in the back of his mind. 

...........................................................................................................................

‘What do you want from me?' Aziraphale gasped, another blow from the Archangel making him double over in pain. At least this time he had managed to stay standing. 

‘I want to know your secret.’ Gabriel started pacing, eyes glittering with malice, the movement unsettling Aziraphale as he tracked the Archangel with his eyes.

‘Secret? What secret?’

So far, Gabriel had taunted Aziraphale and struck him when he spoke out, and somehow the angel had been unable to fight back. It was as though something was dampening his power, leaving him drained and unable to perform a miracle, exhausting his corporation. Now it seemed Gabriel was going to cut to the chase and actually tell Aziraphale what he wanted from him.

‘The Hellfire. That little trick you played on us... I mean, it has to be a trick, right?’ Gabriel gave a twisted smile. 

Aziraphale’s mouth went dry. ‘No, no tricks... just me.’ He lied, mentally cursing at himself for not thinking that _this_ could be what Gabriel was after.

‘No.’ Gabriel spoke firmly. ‘Try again.’

‘I’m telling you!’ The Principality protested, trying not to panic. He was beginning to lose his nerve, afraid of how far Gabriel would go to discover what he wanted to know. 

Unfortunately, Aziraphale was about to find out. 

The Archangel delivered another harsh blow across Aziraphale's face, causing him to stagger backwards.

‘Gabriel!’ He cried out in anguish, bringing a hand up to his cheek where he had been struck. 

Gabriel advanced on him once again, eyes full of contempt. ‘You _will_ tell me, Aziraphale. It’s up to you how... _unpleasant_ I have to be.’

‘There’s nothing to tell! It just happened!’ Aziraphale knew yet another blow would be coming, he just had to figure out how to convince Gabriel before he did too much damage. He _couldn’t_ tell him about the swap. It would be putting Crowley in mortal danger from both sides. 

A door at the back of the room banged open, startling him, as Sandalphon entered. 

‘I see you’ve started already,’ he said with amusement, eyeing Aziraphale's bloodied nose and cheek. 

_Started already?_ ‘I assure you, I’m telling you the truth!’ Aziraphale’s panic had risen now, knowing all too well Sandalphon’s penchant for violence. Aziraphale had been trained for war, for combat, but that was over six thousand years ago. He had had no need to utilise such skills since, and then there was the fact that he himself abhorred violence. Even when he had fought in the armies of Heaven, he had no stomach for it. 

Sandalphon advanced towards Aziraphale. The Principality quickly looked around, taking in his surroundings, searching for an escape route. All he could make out in the dingy, cold room was the door that Sandalphon had arrived through, which he was currently blocking. _No way out._

If there was no easy way to escape, Aziraphale would just have to face them, to face whatever violent vengeance Gabriel and Sandalphon were here to take. 

Suddenly, Sandalphon launched himself at the Principality, the stocky angel catching him off guard and knocking him to the floor. Gabriel loomed over him as he tried to rise quickly on his hands and knees. The Archangel grabbed the front of Aziraphale’s shirt, dragging him upwards into a kneeling position with immense strength.

‘ _The Hellfire_ ,’ he growled through gritted teeth. ‘Tell me what happened, or we’ll make sure your demon boyfriend suffers next.’

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ Aziraphale gasped, ‘he’s an acquaintance, a friend, nothing more.’ _He had to protect Crowley._

‘Funny that, I don’t usually go around kissing my acquaintances. Maybe it’s a human thing.’ Sandalphon quipped.

Aziraphale’s face fell. _They’ve seen us._

‘Or maybe a _disgusting filthy demon thing_.’

Aziraphale saw red.

He twisted in Gabriel’s grasp, pulling himself away and pushing Gabriel at the same time as they scuffled. Managing to struggle free, Aziraphale gasped and panted as he put some distance between himself and the Archangel.

‘Leave Crowley out of this!’ His voice rang out clear across the room, his courage returning, hands balling into fists.

The next thing he felt was his back being struck with something heavy. He staggered again, crying out as he turned to find the source only to be hit squarely across the face once again. Sandalphon had hit him with what seemed to be a heavy wooden staff.

Aziraphale reeled, feeling the warm, wet trickle of blood running down his left cheek where the staff had made the impact.

Both equal measures furious and afraid, he did the only thing he could think of and manifested his wings as he rooted himself firmly to the ground.

_It was the wrong move_. 

...........................................................................................................................

Crowley was speeding along in the Bentley at well over a hundred miles an hour. He didn't know exactly where he was going, he was barely even looking at where he was. He was chasing a feeling, a feeling which was pulling him in a certain direction, guiding his hands on the steering wheel. 

So far, he had made it out of London and out into more open countryside. He was getting closer, he could feel it. He could feel Aziraphale. The angel was hurting, the knowledge leaving Crowley feeling sick to the stomach. 

_Hold on angel, I'm coming._ He willed the Bentley even faster despite the accelerator already being held firmly to the floor. 

..............................................................................................................................

Aziraphale thought he could hear Crowley again. 

_How lovely_ , he thought, as he tried to focus on the demon's voice echoing in his head as he swam in and out of consciousness. _Such a gentle voice._

A harsher, louder voice pulled him back to the present, and with it came the immense aching and stabbing pain in his wings. 

The two had managed to subdue the Principality, who had become so enraged by the idea that Crowley could get hurt in all of this that he had not realised Gabriel had moved behind him. Now his wings were torn and bloodied where his beautiful white feathers had been ripped out, and he was sure something in his left one was _broken_. 

Gabriel was incensed that Aziraphale had managed to endure the systematic attack on his wings without uttering a single answer to any of his questions.

_How did you do it? Was it a trick? A spell? Was it really you?_ had come a little too close. 

Now the archangel ranted and raved in frustration that Aziraphale was clearly _not talking_. 

'How dare you lie there silent when I question you! Answer me! I am the Archangel Gabriel and _you_ \- he delivered a kick towards Aziraphale's torso between each word - _will_ \- _tell_ \- _me_!'

Aziraphale lay there in the dust of the floor, body wracked with pain, repeating the mantra he had created in his head over and over again. 

_Don't say anything. Hold on for Crowley._

He knew the demon would come. Something told him, something to do with that voice he had heard earlier as he drifted on the brink of unconsciousness. Somehow he felt much calmer than he really ought as he fought against the waves of pain.

Gabriel continued to rant, although he had taken to pacing again, which was preferable to being kicked in the ribs. 

'You took everything from me! _Everything_! Because of you, I lost my authority, my position, my place Above! _You_! You couldn't do anything right, you couldn't even die properly! It was my job to deliver justice, which you evaded!' 

Aziraphale was listening fully now, not really understanding what Gabriel was talking about. _Lost his position?_ So he _wasn't_ working for Heaven?

The penny dropped.

This whole thing, this whole grand scheme of Gabriel's was to learn the secret of how to survive Hellfire so that he could get back in Heaven's good books, so to speak. Clearly something had happened after the attempted execution that had led to the Archangel's demotion. _Was he even an Archangel any more?_

Aziraphale raised his head, trying to gather his strength.

'What happened to you?' He managed to ask when Gabriel paused his tirade. 

Gabriel stared at him as though he had just remembered Aziraphale was still there. His lilac eyes were wild, appearing on the verge of losing control. 

‘Aren't you listening? I got demoted. Because of _you._ Unlike you, I'm not just going to sit around and accept it. I'm going to prove who I am, prove how powerful I truly am. I'm the Archangel _fucking_ Gabriel and I'll be damned if I let you evade me again!'

‘So... you’re doing this to punish me?’ Aziraphale asked weakly.

'Well, besides needing to know your little secret... yes, you could say that.' His mouth twisted into a vicious grin, and he ground his foot down hard on one of the joints of Aziraphale's wing, making the angel cry out. 

‘To think they were scared of you! Look at yourself! What have they got to be scared of?’

The door creaked, and Sandalphon, who had excused himself shortly after Gabriel had started abusing Aziraphale's poor wings, returned to the room. 

‘It’s here.’ He gave Gabriel a knowing look.

‘Good. Just in time. I’m beginning to grow tired of this game. How long do we have with it?'

'Twenty four hours before it burns itself out.'

_Burns itself out? What are they doing?_ A feeling of dread grew inside Aziraphale as he listened to the conversation. 

'And our contact?' Gabriel asked.

'He's been dealt with.' Sandalphon replied with a smirk.

'Permanently?' Sandalphon nodded, eyebrows raised. 

'Good. We don't want _downstairs_ knowing about any of this. You never know, if you're lucky, you might get to do some more smiting if his _boyfriend_ turns up.' Gabriel gestured towards Aziraphale who remained silent on the floor.

_Oh Crowley. Please be careful._ Aziraphale was torn between desperately wanting the demon to come to his aid and hoping he stayed away for his own good. _What's the point, if he gets discorporated in trying to help me?_ Aziraphale fretted, his mind spiralling into darkness with the intensity of his physical pain and the realisation that it wouldn't be discorporation if Sandalphon got his hands on Crowley. He would be _destroyed_. And a world without Crowley was simply _unthinkable_. 

Gabriel interrupted his thoughts once more. 

‘Now we’ll see just how you managed to pull off your little trick, _and if I have to force your hand, I will_.’

Gabriel was holding a glass flask containing a single flicker of bright orange flame that licked the sides, trying to escape. 

_Hellfire._

'Gabriel... _please._ ' Aziraphale choked out, pulling himself up with difficulty to sit on his knees, his terror building.

‘Well this shouldn't worry you, should it? After all, you are... _immune_.'

Aziraphale swallowed, trying to pull an excuse out of the air.

'But you could kill yourselves! You don't want to risk that just because of me.'

Gabriel gave that awful, twisted smile again. 

'Oh, we've already prepared for that. We won't be getting near it, don't you worry.'

Gabriel stepped back, away from Aziraphale, and snapped his fingers. The room grew lighter for a moment, and he looked pointedly down at the floor around the Principality.

Aziraphale gasped when he followed Gabriel's gaze.

A huge circle had been etched in the stone floor, surrounded by symbols, and he was right at the centre of it. 

Aziraphale made a clumsy attempt to stand and lurched towards the edge of the circle. Gabriel held out the flask of Hellfire towards him, stopping him in his tracks. 

'You don't want to be getting too near the edge now. Although perhaps you should... then we can see how it's done.'

Aziraphale stumbled back a little, back into the centre. He was going to give it away... _and then what_? 

He knew that if the Archangel didn't get what he wanted - and he _wouldn't_ , because Aziraphale _couldn't_ give it to him - Gabriel would simply execute him as planned at his _trial_ in Heaven. 

'You won’t be walking away from this, Aziraphale. I’ll make sure of it.'

With those words, Gabriel stepped back and threw the flask of Hellfire, shattering it onto the edge of the circle. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd get this chapter out pretty quickly as going away for Christmas today... will still be posting chapters while I'm away, just not sure of the time frame! Hoping to finish for New Year though :)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's still with me, hope you're still enjoying it!

The room was silent, still, nobody dared to move, each fixated on the flask in Gabriel’s hand.

Then it was falling through the air before breaking at the edge of the circle with a tinkling smash.

The glass shattered and so did Aziraphale.

In that single, split second Aziraphale recounted every mistake he had ever made, every stupid, reckless decision that had led him here. Then he thought of Crowley, and how he had made him feel safe, feel loved, and how he wished they had just had _more time_. 

As Gabriel dropped the flask, the Principality instinctively threw himself to the floor with a cry, hands over his head in a futile attempt to protect himself. _This was it. The end_. 

Out of the silence came a deafening roar as the flames of Hellfire sprung up and grew from the remnants of its prison. First came the harsh brightness, then the _heat_. The flames licked and danced their way around Aziraphale until he was completely blocked from Gabriel's view.

...................................................................................................

Crowley felt it before he heard it.

The familiar tremor in the ground followed by the faintest rumble that went undetected by humans, though any demons nearby would know in an instant what it meant. 

Someone had unleashed Hellfire.

_No, no, no... Aziraphale..._

For a moment, Crowley was back in the burning bookshop, desperately searching for his angel with no avail. The feeling of complete and utter despair, hopelessness, _loss_...

Then the same instinct that had navigated him was telling him that his angel was still alive. Crowley clung to it with everything he had, knowing that if he doubted it for a second he would break. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, he growled in frustration as he pushed his beloved car faster than she had ever gone in her life. 

He was in the right place... _nearly there_. Crowley could sense it, could feel the power of the Hellfire mixed with Aziraphale's angelic energy. _Or what was left of it._ He couldn't think about it for fear of what horrifying images his mind would conjure, instead focusing on getting to his angel. 

As he followed a dusty track off the main road, he noticed a dilapidated farmhouse looming in the distance. _He's here._ Crowley willed the Bentley to go quietly as he drove, headlights dimming, not wanting to attract the attention of any other beings until he had scoped out the situation and formed a plan. still approaching the building at some speed. An outbuilding came into view, and Crowley felt another shift in energy as he realised that was where Aziraphale had been taken. 

The road snaked now, narrow corners twisting here and there, and as Crowley rounded the first bend he realised the orange glow coming from the windows of an outbuilding. Distracted, he took his eyes off the road completely, head spinning as he came to the realisation that his angel was probably in there. Rounding the second bend, he collided with something with a great thud and screeched to a halt.

Crowley leapt from the car, not wanting to waste time yet compelled to check what had happened. Aziraphale would never forgive him if he didn't at least assess the damage. He had been so preoccupied with watching the flames through the windows that he had not noticed the human shaped figure in the road. With the silent engine and lack of headlights, it was highly unlikely the poor person had seen or heard Crowley until he was literally upon them. 

As the demon approached the ditch at the side of the road, he could see perfectly what - who - he had hit with his excellent night vision. 

It was Sandalphon.

_Shit._ Crowley grimaced. The angel was completely unmoving, and lacked any kind of angelic energy he would expect to be radiating from the figure lying there in the dirt. 

Sandalphon had been discorporated. 

Giving another frustrated groan, Crowley dashed back towards the Bentley, whose engine was still running, waiting for him. There was nothing he could do, and would likely have someone from Heaven on his trail when they found out what had happened. Fortunately, it was unlikely he would have to deal with Sandalphon himself any time soon; he knew too well that Heaven's bureaucracy would mean it would be some time before the angel would be issued with a new corporation.

Not that he minded. Aziraphale had told him about his last encounter with Sandalphon before Armageddon, and it would seem the angel had got what was coming to him, as far as Crowley was concerned. It would just be another problem to add to his ever-growing list when someone from upstairs inevitably turned up to find him. 

Attention returning to Aziraphale, Crowley sped the last quarter mile to the great stone buildings, and had barely turned off the engine before he jumped out. 

Now he just had to find a way to get in, or at least find some way to see into the building to assess the situation. He did not want to dash in unarmed to find a host of angels or demons waiting for him. It would be pointless if he turned up ready for a daring rescue and ended up getting discorporated himself. 

...................................................................................................

It took a few seconds for Aziraphale to realise he was not dead, or even dying, although it certainly felt like it. When the flames had flared, he had thrown himself to the floor and felt the intense heat of them scalding his body, hearing an unearthly wail that he later realised was coming from himself. He forced his head up to find out why he was still alive, and realised that the flames were being held at bay by the circle, like an invisible barrier between them and himself. The Hellfire had formed a huge column that encircled Aziraphale without actually touching him.

Through the flames he could make out Gabriel's face. The Archangel was standing well back to avoid the effects of it himself, though he was clearly revelling in Aziraphale's pain. Gabriel projected his voice over the roar of the Hellfire, and Aziraphale's heart dropped when he heard what the Archangel said.

'You can get yourself out of this, can't you? Let's see how you manage it... you don't look so good at the moment.'

' _Please... stop..._ ' the heat was consuming the Principality, not quite enough to discorporate him but certainly coming close. It was torture, the constant, inescapable feeling of burning alive, knowing that the heat alone would not destroy him but left him wishing it would. 

'Prove this whole thing wasn't a trick. Show me how it's done, or you'll stay there _indefinitely_. It shouldn't be too much of a problem, it didn't seem to bother you last time.'

Aziraphale tried to gasp and beg Gabriel to let him out, but breathed in a lungful of burning air, the blistering heat travelling down his throat, causing more searing agony. At this point, he felt he would rather walk into the flames himself just to end this torturous pain. Unable to communicate anything to the Archangel, Aziraphale simply lay there in the circle, eyes closed tightly, the burning just too much to fight against. _No wonder demons hate Heaven so much, if this is what Falling feels like._

He did not feel Crowley's presence until the demon was actually in the room with them having miracled himself to the opposite side of the circle to Gabriel. 

Aziraphale knew he was there, knew Crowley had come for him, but was unable to move. He tried to will his body to sit up, to look around and meet his demon's eyes to reassure him that he was still alive, but it refused to co-operate. 

Then he felt Crowley's energy wrap around him like a protective blanket, giving him just enough strength to know he could fight this, he could hold on. He would do it for Crowley.

Gabriel acknowledged the demon's presence warily. It was one thing having the Hellfire contained within the circle, where he knew it would stay until it burnt itself out, but now there was a demon present... this _changed things_. Demons could utilise Hellfire, weaponise it, and if he was not very careful, Crowley would have the upper hand. Gabriel wondered for a moment how Crowley had managed to do it, to get past the defences that Sandalphon was supposed to be setting up outside.

He had to distract Crowley long enough for Sandalphon to return. The odds were better with the second angel's presence, and if Crowley gained control over the Hellfire, Gabriel knew it would make him both powerful and weak; the energy it would take to do so draining his demonic strength. Then they would have their opportunity to strike.

...................................................................................................

All Crowley could think about was getting his angel out of there. 

He knew Aziraphale couldn't walk through the Hellfire, and he greatly suspected that once inside the circle it would prohibit him from performing any miracles. 

He would have to do this the proper way.

Gabriel called out to Crowley over the roaring flames, attracting his attention for a moment. 

'Looks like Aziraphale really did play us for fools. Doesn't look very immune to Hellfire from where I'm standing.'

‘No.’ Crowley spoke slowly and firmly, his mouth set in a straight line and eyes glinting with flecks of golden amber as they caught the light of the hellfire. ‘But _I_ am.’ With that, he grinned maniacally and stepped straight through the white-hot flames and into the circle where Aziraphale lay. 

Stood in the middle of the column, he could feel the heat, which meant so could Aziraphale. For a demon, actually standing in Hellfire was somewhat unpleasant, like climbing into a bath that was slightly too hot, though not hot enough to scald. For an angel, it was pure agony just to feel the heat radiating from the flames.

Crowley was at Aziraphale's side instantly. Kneeling next to his angel, he tried to take him in his arms, to reassure him, but Aziraphale was barely coherent. Crowley could feel the angel's skin, red and hot under his hands. The Hellfire's heat was burning him alive. 

'Aziraphale! Angel, I'm here, I'm here, I'm going to get you out, hold on.'

Aziraphale forced his eyes open when he heard Crowley's voice, an oasis of soothing calm in the middle of a fiery sea. The Hellfire stung his eyes, drying them out, and he closed them again, leaning into Crowley, _If this is it, I want to be with him. Let me be close to him._

He felt Crowley's lips press a kiss to the top of his head, and his voice murmured in his ear, just loud enough to be heard over the flames. 

'I have to let go of you now, angel. When I say, I need to you to move. Can you do that?'

Aziraphale could do anything if it meant holding on to his demon, if it came with a promise of _tomorrow_ and _forever_ by his side. He managed to meet Crowley's eyes of pure molten gold, ignoring the stinging sensation, and nodded, forcing out a whisper of assent. 

Crowley cupped his face and kissed his forehead.

'I love you.'

Then his arms were gone, and he was standing and turning towards the flames.

Summoning every ounce of his strength, Crowley concentrated on manipulating the Hellfire. _Please, God- Satan- someone, let this work_ , he thought, as he willed the flames to part. Knowing how much being here was hurting his angel, Crowley focused on this knowledge and gritted his teeth, and with one final exertion, allowed his power to surge through him, willing with every fibre of his being -

Crowley let out a guttural shout, and created a gap in the column of Hellfire just wide enough for Aziraphale to slip through without being in danger of burning.

Aziraphale had managed to drag himself into a kneeling position when he realised what Crowley was doing, despite every muscle in his body screaming in protest at the movement. He forgot his pain for a moment, looking up in awe at the determined concentration on Crowley's face as he channeled his demonic powers into forcing the flames into obedience. The demon glanced down and met the angel's eyes, giving Aziraphale a look that conveyed both softness and urgency. 

'Go now!' he shouted to the angel above the roar of the flames. Aziraphale saw the opening and scrambled out of the circle, careful to avoid the angry flames, and collapsed on the floor a few feet away from where Crowley was now making his way towards him, still harnessing the fire’s direction and power. Gabriel looked on, a horrified expression written across his face as he realised the true nature of Crowley’s power. The Hellfire was no longer in his control, his weapon turned against him.

‘The way I see it’, Crowley shouted over the roaring flames, an expression of determination mixed with fury on his face, ‘is this. Your attempts at getting to Aziraphale are futile. I will _never_ stop coming for him. For as long as I'm around, I will protect him.' The fire burned in his eyes and seemed to fill him with an anger, a passion.

An unhinged look appeared on Gabriel's face as he stepped towards Crowley. 'Aziraphale belongs to Heaven. He belongs to _me_!' the Archangel shouted, lilac eyes wide and blazing.

'No.' Crowley spoke coldly and calmly, looking Gabriel directly in the eyes. 'Aziraphale doesn't belong to you, or Heaven, or _anyone_. He's not a possession. He's not a plaything of Heaven for you to intimidate and manipulate to try to prove your own worth.' He spat the last part at Gabriel, who suddenly started to laugh.

Suddenly, Aziraphale stirred and groaned, a bundle of torn, singed clothes and mangled feathers lying on the ground. Both Crowley and Gabriel noticed and started to move towards him, the demon reluctantly relinquishing his control over the Hellfire to allow himself more energy should he need to defend his angel from Gabriel. He couldn't use the Hellfire on him, not with Aziraphale so close. It would destroy them both. He pushed it down, down to Hell, until it was nothing more than a flicker on the floor which soon burned out, leaving behind a slight smell of sulphur. 

Noticing the movement from both parties, Aziraphale moved to get up, attempting and failing to haul himself to his feet, causing Gabriel to let out another harsh bark of laughter.

Gabriel reached him first.

He stood, looming over Aziraphale triumphantly, an expression of disdain on his face when he looked down at the Principality. 

'Before I end you, Aziraphale... I'm going to kill your demon boyfriend here. And you're going to watch.'

Gabriel pulled an angelic blade out of the ethereal plane, grinned down at Aziraphale then looked up at Crowley, a look of pure loathing on his face.

 _Shit_ , thought Crowley. He was no longer in control of the Hellfire, and had too little strength left to summon it up to do his bidding again. Aziraphale must have had the same thought, as he looked up at the demon with eyes full of concern and fear for him.

'Crowley...' Aziraphale started, attempting to push himself up with his trembling arms.

Gabriel glanced down and aimed a kick at Aziraphale's chest, causing the angel to fall back to the floor groaning in pain, another bruise forming on his abused body. 

Anger coursed through Crowley's veins as the demon desperately tried to come up with something - anything - that he could use to fight Gabriel. He knew he couldn't win a fight with one of Heaven's Archangels. But he could keep him busy, keep him distracted. Perhaps long enough for Aziraphale to get away. A memory flickered in the back of his mind, and he absurdly thought of the moment he had prepared to face Satan himself armed with nothing but a tyre iron. _What the Hell. It's worth a shot_ , he thought to himself, and miracled the ridiculous object into his hand. 

Gabriel stared at him for a moment, a look of incredulous amusement on his face which quickly hardened into grim determination as he raised his blade and started towards the demon.

' _This is it, angel'_ , he thought, wishing Aziraphale could hear him, willing him to feel this one last burst of love. The Principality raised his head, a look of awed confusion on his features. 

_He_ could _hear him._

Crowley had no time to feel bewildered as to how it was happening, and decided to use this strange new connection while he could. Gabriel was not worthy to hear the most intimate thoughts on their relationship. This was probably his final moment, the last words he would ever say to his angel. He was going to make them count.

' _Get yourself out of here if you can... stay safe, please. And don't forget_ -' he looked across at Aziraphale and met his watery grey eyes '- _I love you. More than anything, my angel, my best friend. Six thousand years of having you by my side has made this life so worth it. This was enough. This was_ perfect _.'_

He gave Aziraphale one last, lingering look and a small smile before turning his attention back to Gabriel. Raising the tyre iron knowing his only hope was to keep the Archangel distracted while Aziraphale escaped, Crowley grimaced and braced himself as Gabriel advanced. 

...................................................................................................

It had been Gabriel’s obsession with proving his might against Aziraphale that had led to this entire predicament, and now it would be his downfall. The Archangel was far too distracted with the idea of smiting the demon before him that he did not notice the shift in angelic energy in the room. 

Aziraphale had heard Crowley's words in his mind, echoing throughout his soul, and had decided that this was most definitely _not enough_ for him. He wanted Crowley for _eternity,_ pain and Hellfire and Archangels be damned. 

Before Gabriel could take another step, there was a flash of light, a bellowing shout and suddenly the Archangel was motionless, engulfed in a column of blinding white light. Crowley ducked and shielded his eyes from the holy light, squinting. He managed to make out Gabriel's expression of utter shock - eyes wide, mouth open - then noticed the flames in the centre of his chest. He frowned and opened his eyes a little more, trying to make out what exactly had just happened. Then he _saw_. 

Crowley could just about make out Aziraphale's form standing behind Gabriel. In his hand was a hilt, a hilt of a very familiar sword. The blade was aflame, and it was stuck straight through the middle of the Archangel's chest. 

The Principality had commanded every last remaining ounce of his strength to defend his soulmate in what should have been his last stand, and had _won_.

Then Gabriel was drifting upwards, up into the column of light, until Crowley was no longer able to see him. The light seemed to flash even brighter, then it was gone. 

The Archangel Michael now stood before him.

...................................................................................................

Crowley gripped the tyre iron harder, steeling himself.

'Demon Crowley, I am not here to do you harm.' Michael eyed the tyre iron warily before deciding it was not much of a threat. 

'Really? Even though we just killed two Archangels?'

'Discorporated. They will be dealt with when I return to Heaven. They will not be returning to Earth.' They spoke in a clipped, unmoved tone.

'Oh right, and who put you in charge?' Crowley drawled. Michael frowned.

'I took over the - management of Heaven, shall we say, shortly after you and Aziraphale were returned to Earth after the Great Plan was thwarted.' Now it was Crowley's turn to frown.

'So you're the one who sent Gabriel down here to kill us.' _Great_ , Crowley thought. _More trouble_. He just wanted to get to Aziraphale, to assess the full extent of the damage, to heal him, but Michael stood between them.

'Gabriel has not been acting according to Heaven's instruction. This was his doing and his alone. I did not authorise or sanction it, and I expressly did not condone it. ' Michael began speaking again, but the clanging of metal on stone interrupted them and they turned to face Aziraphale, who had dropped the sword which was no longer flaming, the Principality looking incredibly shaken and pale. 

'Cr-Crowley.' He managed weakly, before swaying on the spot. The demon rushed to his side, not caring that he had to push past Michael, and caught Aziraphale before he fell. Lowering both of them to the ground, Crowley held him and reassured him, speaking to him lovingly. 

'I'm here angel, it's ok. It's over. You're ok.' The last part was a lie; they both knew it. Aziraphale was far from ok, and it would be some time before he would be again.

Michael studied the scene in front of them. 'Take him home.' They spoke to Crowley, who looked up at them. 'Heal him. Then I'll be in touch.' 

The Archangel disappeared upwards in a flash of holy light. 

Aziraphale groaned again, and Crowley's attention snapped back to him. The angel was tugging at Crowley's jacket, pulling him closer, burying his head in the demon's chest. Crowley could hear his shallow breaths as Aziraphale fought to stay coherent despite the pain. Eyes roving over Aziraphale's torn clothes and ragged wings, Crowley fought back tears as he took in the extent of his angel's injuries.

'Take me home, Crowley. Please.' The angel murmured into his chest. 

'I should heal you a bit first... don't want to make anything worse. Where does it hurt the most?' Crowley had dreaded asking the question. 

'Chest... _wings_.' 

Crowley manoeuvred Aziraphale into a sitting position, the angel wincing and gasping in pain.

'Sorry, sorry angel. Got to get to you to do it.' Crowley mumbled, running a hand over the back of Aziraphale's head in comfort as he steadied him. Once he could get to the angel's chest, Crowley ran his hands slowly over Aziraphale's ribcage, feeling the broken ribs knit back together under his fingers, closing cuts and willing the bruising to start healing. By the time he had done so, Crowley slumped in exhaustion himself, knowing he would need his last bit of strength for one last miracle home. 

'Sorry angel... need to recharge before I can do any more. Let’s get you home.'

Aziraphale managed a weak smile. 'You've done wonderfully, my dear. Feels a little better already.' He cut himself off with a gasp as he moved his wing awkwardly, causing a sharp pain to shoot along the joints. He met Crowley's eyes, giving him a pleading look. 'Ready to go.' It was a statement, not a question. Crowley gathered the angel in his arms, holding him close, mindful of the wings.

Crowley doubted Aziraphale would manage a car ride, and with a snap of Crowley’s fingers, they found themselves falling through the door of the bookshop’s flat, Crowley hurrying to steady Aziraphale whose legs buckled under him as his feet hit the floor. The Bentley would find her own way home. 

Wrapping his arm around the angel’s waist, Crowley half carried him into the bedroom and helped him onto the bed. Aziraphale flopped down ungracefully, barely able to prop himself up with his arms. 

‘That’s it, angel... we’re back, we’re home, we’re safe.' Crowley wanted nothing more than to simply fall down next to him and sleep for a week, but right now Aziraphale needed him. Instead, he sat next to the angel and ran a hand through messy red hair and mentally prepared himself for what was going to come next.

'We need to sort out your wings, angel.' At the mention of his wings, Aziraphale whimpered and his eyes filled with tears. 

'Not yet... please.' He whispered, looking fearful.

Crowley could not miracle Aziraphale's wings better. Wings had to heal naturally, and they both knew that they would hurt more before they healed. Broken feathers would have to be plucked out, bones reset, tangles unknotted. It would be an ordeal for Aziraphale, who had already suffered so much. 

Crowley sighed. He knew the longer they left them the worse it would be when they did eventually face it, but could not bring himself to argue with the angel in this state. He nodded, and stood up from the bed.

'Ok... we'll rest for a few hours, then I'll run a bath. It'll be easier in the warmth with the steam and the water... can get them clean again too.' Aziraphale nodded, grimacing as he pushed himself further up the bed. 'You could do with something comfy to wear... shall I?' Aziraphale nodded again.

'Please.' The demon waved his hand and Aziraphale was dressed in a pair of his pale blue tartan pyjamas. He gave Crowley a weary smile, and turned to lie on his front, wings splayed awkwardly out behind him across his back and legs. The angel turned his head to the side, looking at Crowley, the pleading look back in his eyes.

'Stay with me?'

Needing no further words of encouragement, Crowley clambered onto the bed next to the angel, pulling the cream comforter up to Aziraphale's waist. Aziraphale shifted slightly onto his side to face Crowley, placing his left hand between them.Crowley immediately placed his over the top and stroked his thumb across the back of the angel's hand in a soothing motion, his touch feather light. He felt exhausted from both physical and mental exertion, but fought to stay awake for the angel, who very rarely slept. 

The last thing he saw before his eyes closed was Aziraphale's pale face, eyes fluttering shut, his pained expression finally relaxing as he fell into a deep slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I think I mentioned last chapter, the more violent/battle type things really aren't my strong suit so sorry if you feel a bit cheated out of what could have been a pretty exciting fight, I really don't think I could've done it justice! I wanted Aziraphale to have a moment though, he's been through a lot but he is stronger than he thinks, so just had to let him have Gabriel even if it was a bit sneaky... 
> 
> Back to the healing/comfort next chapter, but a bit more angst is on its way too!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! This chapter is a bit shorter than the last one, and ends a little angsty I’m afraid... lots of comfort coming soon in the next one though!  
> I’m having laptop trouble so having to post on my phone at the moment, so apologies for any inconsistencies or anything funny going on with the formatting, it’s so much more difficult doing it like this.  
> As always, thanks for reading and for kudos/comments. All very appreciated!

Crowley woke with a start, gasping, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He pushed himself upright in the bed, turning to face Aziraphale who was dozing fitfully. 

_He’s fine, it was just a dream_. Again.

Letting out a deep exhale, Crowley ran a hand through his tousled hair, settling the other on Aziraphale’s shoulder as though to reassure himself that the angel was really there.

He would often dream of the bookshop aflame, returning to the moment when he dashed frantically through the rooms as he desperately searched for Aziraphale. This time, it was worse. When he had arrived, it had been too late. Someone else had got there first, and the image of a beaten, broken Aziraphale lay in the middle of the floor among the burning books and debris, unmoving, body devoid of his angelic soul.

It had made Crowley realise just how close he had come this time to losing his angel.

Taking in another deep breath, he climbed out of the bed to look out of the window at the street below. It seemed to be early afternoon, which meant they had had a good few hours of rest. Crowley looked back at Aziraphale, watching the angel’s back rise and fall, noticing his wings giving an involuntary twitch now and again.

The demon left the window and headed into the kitchen, preparing himself for the task ahead. Making a mug of cocoa just the way Aziraphale liked it, he slipped back to the sleeping angel and gently placed his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

’‘Angel,’ Crowley said softly, attempting to rouse him.

Aziraphale stirred, opened his eyes and groaned as his attention returned to the intense throbbing in his wings.

‘Crowley... it hurts.’

‘I know, angel. Going to fix it for you, now, if you’ll let me.’

Aziraphale slowly shifted into an upright position, careful not to move the injured wing. A grim determination hardened his features.

‘Let’s get it over with.’ He muttered, knowing it would be worse when Crowley started to work.

‘Ok...’ Crowley moved closer to the wing, assessing the extent of Aziraphale’s injuries. ‘There’s quite a few broken feathers... some are missing.’ He tried to keep his voice even, attempting to control the growing anger inside him as he realised how badly the angel had been hurt. ‘And...’ Crowley trailed off, _hissing_ , as the fury rose again.

‘Just tell me. It’s bad, isn’t it?’ Aziraphale prompted, feeling the anger radiate from his demon. 

‘The joint... it’s dislocated.’

Aziraphale closed his eyes. He had been hoping it would be _anything_ but that.

Trying to remain strong for Crowley, he took a deep breath and steadied himself. 

‘Well, at least it won’t be too difficult to fix, I suppose.’

‘Going to hurt like Heaven to fix, angel. I can’t...’ Crowley trailed off, feeling helpless. Yes, he could fix it, but not without causing the angel an excruciating amount of pain in the process.

‘You can. It’ll be fine. It’ll be over in a jiffy.’ 

Crowley swallowed. ‘Right...’

‘It’ll be easier if I sit on the floor, I should think,’ Aziraphale said, sounding much braver than he felt. The angel moved off the bed and knelt in front of it, leaning forwards and over it for support. 

‘There... does that help?’

‘Thanks, angel.’ Crowley ran his hand gently over Aziraphale’s wing, careful to avoid the broken feathers and bare patches.

He had always thought Aziraphale’s wings were beautiful. Snow white, like a dove’s. They complimented him perfectly, always so neatly groomed and not a feather out of place. Now though, they were ashen grey, with flecks of blood and dirt and he could see where fistfuls of feathers had been torn out. How could they do this to him? Aziraphale was so kind, so trusting, so eager to see the good in everyone...

‘My dear?’ Aziraphale had noticed the way Crowley’s hands had paused as he lost himself in his train of thought.

‘Right, yes, let’s... let’s sort this out.’

Aziraphale heard the apprehension in Crowley’s voice and turned to face him.

‘Crowley... it’ll be alright. I know you don’t want to hurt me, but once it’s over with it’ll feel better. But if you really can’t-‘

‘No! No, angel, it’s ok. I’m ready.’

‘Right.’ Aziraphale resumed his position over the bed.

Crowley grasped the edge of the wing firmly but carefully. Aziraphale stifled a gasp. He did not want to make this any more difficult for the demon.

With a sharp tug, Crowley popped the joint back into place.

For a moment, Aziraphale was silent, then he inhaled sharply as the pain from the action registered and he found his body wracked with loud, gasping sobs, tears falling involuntarily as he collapsed forwards onto the bed. 

‘It’s done, angel, I’m so sorry, it’s done.’ Crowley soothed, stroking Aziraphale’s back. The angel made no move to get up, simply lying face down as he sobbed. He cried for his poor wings, his ordeal with Gabriel, his naivety in daring to believe this could have been anything but a horrible betrayal. But most of all, he cried for Crowley, and the whole sorry state of affairs he had inadvertently brought about.

After a while, his crying subsided, and Crowley paused the stroking of Aziraphale’s back to run a hand through the angel’s curls. 

‘I’m going to run you a bath, ok? Then we can get you cleaned up properly.’

Aziraphale nodded, raising his tear stained face now etched with the pain of regret.

‘My dear, I have so many things I have to tell you... and I fear you won’t like me very much by the end.’

Crowley paused, seeing the guilt and worry in Aziraphale’s eyes. 

_What happened to you, angel? None of this is really your fault._

Crowley took a deep breath, searching for the right words to say that would reassure Aziraphale that he truly had nothing to worry about.

‘Oh, angel. There’s nothing you can say that would stop me loving you. That I can promise.’ Crowley pressed a kiss to the top of his angel’s head. 

He ran his hand through Aziraphale’s hair one final time, then headed into the bathroom to begin filling the ornate tub that had miraculously doubled in size to comfortably fit an angel and his wings.

After a while, a presence in the doorway drew Crowley’s attention, and he turned to find Aziraphale standing there, cocoa in hand, watching him.

‘Almost ready, angel.’ Aziraphale gave him a weak smile.

‘Thank you, it looks lovely,’ he said. Baths were yet another human invention that Aziraphale liked to indulge in occasionally. He would often accompany them with various sweet scented oils, enjoying the familiar aromas of vanilla and jasmine. 

Aziraphale undressed and swiftly clambered into the bath, unsure of how much healing Crowley had managed to do, fretting about the state the demon was seeing him in. Crowley however was fiddling with the towels on the rail, attempting to give the angel some privacy, and if anything was amiss, he kept silent.

Aziraphale allowed his wings to drape over the sides, attempting to relax in the comforting warmth. He silently offered the washcloth to Crowley, a pleading look upon his face, not wanting to admit what he needed. The demon took it and wrung it out, beginning to wash through the dirt and grime that had settled in Aziraphale’s wings. Every now and then, he came to a broken feather which he was forced to pluck out, doing so as quickly as possible so as not to prolong the pain.

Eventually, Aziraphale settled and started to begin.

He told Crowley of how he had come to meet Gabriel, of what he had been offered. He spoke of how he could never understand why he seemed to want it more when he was around the Archangel than afterwards, when he would wish he hadn’t gone along with it at all. Finally, Aziraphale admitted that he had, in fact, been completely taken in and duped by Gabriel.

There was a pause as Crowley considered all of this while Aziraphale tried not to internally panic that he had possibly lost his demon for good.

‘Oh, angel. I’m sorry you weren’t ready to come to me about all this. I could’ve been there for you... y’know, maybe helped you find a bit of clarity between his visits?’ Crowley enveloped Aziraphale’s hand that rested on the side of the bath, but the angel pulled his away in shock. 

Was that all he was worried about? After everything? Not the fact that Aziraphale had gone behind his back, or put him in danger from Gabriel, but this?

Aziraphale was stunned. 

‘Really? After all I’ve just told you, and you say that? You should be telling me how stupid I’ve been, asking how I could have possibly betrayed you like that!’

‘I know how it all happened, you just told me. Gabriel was basically tempting you, or whatever it is angels call it. You didn’t betray me, you just... didn’t tell me.’ Crowley spoke placidly. Whilst the fact that the angel kept this secret from him did sting, he could understand why Aziraphale had done so.

Crowley had always been incredibly perceptive, especially for a demon and especially when it came to Aziraphale. He knew the angel would not have done anything intentionally to hurt him, and knew that he would not put Heaven before him, at least not anymore. He also knew that Aziraphale had never fitted in with his peers, and a part of him had clearly been affected by that. It had never been addressed, which meant it would simmer away until it came to a head at some point. This whole debacle was less to do with Aziraphale not finding Crowley _enough_ and everything to do with his unresolved feelings of inferiority and inadequacy instilled in him by the other angels. 

‘But - you should be angry with me!’ Aziraphale burst out, seemingly unhappy with Crowley’s calm reaction. The demon continued rinsing feathers, unperturbed by the outburst.

‘Why? You couldn’t really help it. It wasn’t as straightforward as choosing a side. I know it’s not that. I get it, angel, I really do.’

‘But, Crowley... to be influenced like that means the thought has to be there in the first place, in some capacity. I was already inclined to accept an invitation back into the fold... not that I would at the expense of you, of course... but if there had been a chance for me to redeem myself in Heaven’s eyes, provided I was allowed to resume my activities here on Earth and continue to enjoy your company without fear of repercussions, I have to admit I was rather pleased at the thought.’

Crowley swallowed. ‘From what I’ve gathered over the years, your lot haven’t made you feel welcome or feel appreciated one bit. Of course you’d jump at the chance to be a part of that, of your... _Heavenly family_... it’s what you’ve wanted since the beginning.’

‘But that was before I had _you_. That was before we were left to get on with things... I jumped at the chance of a life with you, too.’

‘The two aren’t mutually exclusive, angel... especially not if they agreed you’d be left alone for most of it. You can want to feel part of your ‘family’ and want to be with me, too. You can’t feel bad for having feelings, angel. ‘S not like you can _help_ it.’

‘But that part of me should have been over and done with the moment they failed to give you - me- a fair trial! The moment Gabriel ordered the execution! That should’ve been the end of it! Why did I still think being accepted was such a good idea, such a positive thing?’

‘Because for six thousand years, you’ve been forced to liaise with others who don’t understand you, who don’t see or appreciate you for who you are. Heaven will always be part of you, and you’ll always be part of Heaven, no one can change that. Its only natural to want to be accepted, no matter what came before.’

Aziraphale knew Crowley was making sense, but a part of him was hoping that Crowley would just get angry with him and storm out. It would make this easier to deal with, instead of this-

‘I really do understand why you did it, angel. And like I said before, I _don’t blame you.’_

‘I don’t deserve it, though! Your understanding, your kindness - it _is_ kindness.’ He added before he could be interrupted with the usual ‘ _I’m not kind’._

‘Of course you do! You’ve been through so much! Aziraphale, you were hurting, you likely still are. To have never been accepted then be offered everything you ever wanted at a time when you were feeling so vulnerable... anyone would be tempted, whether they were subconsciously persuaded or not!’

Why did he have to be so _understanding_? So quick to forgive, so easily accepting? Aziraphale would have found it easier if Crowley had been accusing, angry even. He had been prepared for that. He hadn’t been ready for this reaction, this inherent kindness he was being shown, this depth of understanding. 

If he was being truthful, he believed it was what he deserved. To be shunned, to be told what a disappointment he was, to be told that once again, he had done the _wrong_ _thing_. After all, isn’t that what usually happened?

_Not with Crowley_ , a voice in the back of his head tried to whisper. 

Aziraphale was not quite ready to hear it, though. 

He was trapped in a kind of limbo, between his usual fears and anxieties and Crowley’s reassurance and acceptance. He was teetering at the edge of a precipice, not quite ready to take the plunge but being pushed towards it all the same. 

It was _too_ _much,_ and he feared his fretful, agitated side was winning once again. He was afraid of it doing so, yet at the same time relieved, the path he knew it led him down being what he was acclimatised to, unlike the other, unknown, which would lead him into unfamiliar territory where he would be forced to face his metaphorical demons.

Not knowing what else to do and unable to articulate anything more, Aziraphale drew his knees up close to his chest, his now damp wings beginning to curl around him. 

‘Just - leave me alone, Crowley,’ he said bitterly, hanging his head and staring into the cloudy water, unable to meet the demon’s eyes.

‘Angel,’ Crowley started softly, hurt flashing in serpentine eyes.

‘Please, go!’ Aziraphale's voice was raised and filled with despair. With that, the Principality cocooned his wings tightly around himself, closed his eyes and laid his head on his knees. He heard a shuffle across the room, then a voice spoke quietly.

‘I’ll just be outside if you need me. Just give me a shout... please, angel.’ 

The bathroom door closed tightly with a snap.

At the sound, Aziraphale let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding and allowed the tears that he would not let the demon see, to fall. Hidden from Crowley, from the world, he finally sobbed openly, the overwhelming sense of guilt now gripping him in an icy, painful embrace, reminding him of how alone he was because of the poor choices he had made. _You deserved the pain, the punishment... you betrayed Crowley. You don’t deserve his healing, his love. You did this to yourself. Now you’re throwing his compassion back in his face, too weak to admit what’s become of you._

_.............................................................._

Outside the bathroom, Crowley sat slumped helplessly against the wooden door frame. His face was the picture of despair, and he made no move to wipe away the flood of tears trickling down his cheeks as he listened to his angel’s broken sobs from the other side of the door.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, comfort aplenty as promised! Hope you enjoy!

What felt like several hours had passed since Crowley had been sitting outside the bathroom, listening for Aziraphale's voice but hearing nothing but sobs, then silence. 

Uncurling his limbs, the demon staggered to his feet and gave a little stretch, feeling an aching weariness in his body. He paused as he contemplated knocking on the door, his concerns having mounted in the stretch of silence but also not wanting to invade Aziraphale’s much needed privacy.

Giving the door a last wistful look, Crowley wandered through to the kitchen and spotted a bottle of red wine on the countertop. _Just the one glass_ , he thought to himself. It would not be fair to get himself drunk, no matter how much he wished to at this moment. Pouring a larger than usual glass, Crowley stoppered the bottle and returned it to its place on the countertop.

He returned to the sitting room, deliberately sitting in Aziraphale’s chair to remain well within earshot of the bathroom. Hunched over, Crowley nursed his glass, swirling the ruby liquid inside as he mulled over his thoughts. 

_God- Satan_ \- _someone_ , it had hurt when he had thought the angel had gone behind his back to work for Heaven again. He had almost started to question everything, every conversation and kiss and memory from their relationship over the past year. He felt sick to his stomach that Aziraphale had been manipulated in such an intrusive way by Gabriel, yet at the same time felt a small sense of relief that he had not necessarily chosen this path of his own accord. Which led to Crowley feeling incredibly conflicted, because of course he did not want his angel to suffer like that, but at the same time would not have known what to do should his initial fears have been proved correct.

In any case, this was creeping towards the back of Crowley’s mind to make way for a fresh fear. The fear that his angel would never truly recover, would never truly feel _whole_ after all this was greater now than anything else, and when Aziraphale had pushed Crowley away, it had left him feeling helpless and concerned over what the future held for them should the angel be unable to be completely honest with him. 

All Crowley wanted to do was help, to help Aziraphale feel better. He wanted to make his angel _happy_.

It came as a pleasant surprise interrupting his dark thoughts as he felt an air of warmth and _love_ wrap around him, pulling him back to the here and now, nudging him alert to its presence.

Crowley could feel Aziraphale reaching out, embracing his aura, requesting permission to communicate like this. He did not hesitate to let the angel in, delighted that Aziraphale was finally coming around, that he had chosen to break the silence of his own accord.

_My dear boy, my darling, I’m so sorry. I don’t even feel worthy enough to ask for your forgiveness_.

Crowley closed his eyes, despairing at the angel’s words, at his apparent lack of self worth. He focused, controlling his own feelings of helplessness and instead allowing Aziraphale to feel his love for him, just enough to bolster him as opposed to the whole supernova that usually felt all consuming, deciding it too intense for the moment.

His immediate thought had been the self deprecating, age old ‘ _you’re an angel and I’m a demon, of course you’re the worthy one’_ springing to mind. But this wasn’t about that. Their celestial (and demonic) states were not even relevant at this point; Aziraphale had decided that he was not worthy, and to tell him otherwise _because he’s an angel_ would be invalidating his feelings, which were very real and had to be faced head on.

Crowley thought for a moment, then sent his own message, reaching out to Aziraphale through the rooms of the flat.

_Aziraphale, my angel. If you need forgiveness from me, you have it. If you need comfort, you have it. Whatever you need, just tell me, and I’ll give it, willingly. You have all of me, angel. You always will, for as long as you want._

There was a surge of energy, almost as if the angel had gasped at Crowley’s words, tendrils of Aziraphale’s love wrapping tighter around the demon. 

Then the door to the bathroom creaked open and Aziraphale emerged, the desire to be close to Crowley winning against the now subsiding anxieties. He was dressed in clean tartan pyjamas, a sheepish smile on his face, and Crowley rose to greet him, crossing to the bedroom door when he saw Aziraphale give a small nod in its direction.

Crowley watched him silently, letting Aziraphale settle wherever he was most comfortable, the angel eventually perching on the edge of the bed and fumbling a little with his hands, apparently unsure of what to say.

It was an improvement on shutting himself away and refusing to allow Crowley to help, if nothing else. At least he was here; physically and emotionally present, and seemingly ready to address his issues face to face.

Crowley approached him slowly, carefully bending to take Aziraphale’s hands in his, pressing a kiss to the top of his angel’s soft white curls. 

‘Sit beside me?’ Aziraphale asked softly. 

Crowley immediately obliged, still holding the angel’s hands in his left, resisting the urge to just wrap his arms around him for fear it would be too much. 

Then Aziraphale leaned into him, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder, and Crowley could not help himself as he nestled his cheek against the fluffy curls, inhaling the scents of vanilla and jasmine that accompanied his angel.

‘Where should I start?’ Aziraphale said with a shaky chuckle. 

‘Wherever you like, angel. We can talk about all of it or none of it. I’m not going to push you, I swear.’

Aziraphale snaked his right arm around the back of Crowley’s waist, holding him closer, craving his nearness. 

‘Thank you,’ he whispered, a thousand meanings behind the words. Crowley could feel that the angel was still somewhat tense, and knew that unless he released some of it, Aziraphale was unlikely to speak candidly and would probably try to hold back. He had an idea.

'Shall I finish sorting your wings out while we talk? Might help. Make you feel better.' Even as he was saying it, Crowley was anticipating the rejection, but was pleasantly surprised when the angel agreed. 

Crowley arranged them on the bed, Aziraphale sitting on the edge with the demon kneeling behind him. 

As Crowley stroked and brushed the feathers with his fingertips, Aziraphale felt the tension ebbing away, almost relaxing into the comfort of it. He couldn't relax fully, though. Not until there was nothing left unsaid, no more secrets between them.

‘If I start at the beginning... well, the beginning of _us_ , not the _beginning_ beginning, you already know how things stood between Heaven and myself then,’ Aziraphale began, rambling a little out of nervousness. ‘I’ve been feeling quite - out of sorts - since Armageddon. Not all the time, though,’ he added. 

‘I thought everything would just click into place afterwards, and it did - our lives became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I simply couldn’t understand why I kept feeling _funny_. It started off with feeling - well, numb, I suppose. I tried to shake it, so to speak, but each time it happened, it would be worse. Sometimes I’d not move from the armchair, not even to open the shop... it might have been hours or days, I just don’t know. I just kept thinking of all the awful, horrible things I’ve done, over and over, until I was drowning in them and couldn’t even find the positives in seeing you, in our life together. I never wanted you to see me like that, Crowley.’

_That explains the silences_ , Crowley thought to himself. The days where he had simply been unable to reach Aziraphale, where the phone had rang unanswered and the shop had been closed during opening hours. Crowley had put it down to the angel’s new sense of freedom, assuming he had just taken himself off on one of his jaunts someplace.

‘The day I ran into Gabriel... I’d had one of those turns that morning. That’s why I pushed you out... I suppose now I come to think of it, if I’d come clean then, none of this might have happened,’ Aziraphale trailed off, sounding forlorn.

Quick to reassure the angel, Crowley spoke.

‘I think Gabriel would have found a way, angel... from what I could make out, it sounds like he’d got quite obsessed. He would’ve found a way one way or another.’ He stroked his fingers downwards and inwards, towards the fluffier down of Aziraphale’s left wing.

‘Hmm,’ Crowley received in response. There was a brief pause before the angel continued.

‘When I had these - moments,’ he said, ‘I would sometimes think of Heaven, of how I’d never fitted in, of what a disappointment I was... my eccentricity and human tendencies didn’t help, I suppose.’

‘But that’s _you_ , angel,’ Crowley interjected. ‘That’s what makes you who you are. Who I fell in love with, all those years ago. If you’d been like the others, you’d have given me a wide berth. Or smote me even, I suppose. But you _didn’t_. You actually seemed to _want_ to spend time with me, you showed an interest in what I said. You were so different to the others, in all the best ways.’ Crowley swallowed. 

‘You were the first one I spoke to after I Fell, besides Lucifer and a couple of others down there. I don’t really know what I was expecting... but I wasn’t expecting _you_. I didn’t think anyone would be _kind_... not to a demon.’

‘You make it so easy to be kind to you,’ Aziraphale chuckled, and Crowley could tell he was smiling. He let out a snort.

‘Yes, I’m sure that’s everyone’s first thoughts about the Serpent of Eden,’ he drawled, a hint of amusement in his voice. ‘Anyway, sorry, going off on a bit of a tangent. You were talking about you.’

Aziraphale’s face fell. He much preferred this conversation, their usual back and forth taking on a much sweeter note these days. 

‘Well, yes... as I was saying, I was having a - _bad_ _day_ \- already, when I ran into Gabriel at the park. The thoughts that I now know he was influencing were most likely to do with that. Every time we met, I would feel worse and worse, and I was afraid to confide in you because I really didn’t know why I was doing it, I was acting on a silly, niggling thought that was being used by Gabriel to his advantage.’ He took a deep breath.

‘It made me feel weak, Crowley. Gabriel made me feel weak. I’m a _Principality_ , I’m not _supposed_ to be weak. It was bad enough feeling like it, let alone admitting it to someone I love.’

‘Oh, angel.’ Crowley sighed. ‘If only you could see what I see... you aren’t weak, quite the opposite. You’ve given me hope when I’ve all but run out. You risked the wrath of Heaven to be friends with me. You went down to the very depths of Hell to save my life. You gave away your flaming sword to an exiled couple because you worried for their safety, not even thinking what She might’ve done to you for it.’

His fingers stilled now, buried in the feathers of Aziraphale’s wings as he poured all of his love and devotion into his words for the angel.

‘Even at the end, when I asked you, _begged_ you to run away with me, your courage stopped you. You stayed to try to protect the Earth, no matter the cost to yourself.’

Crowley couldn’t stop. He had to tell Aziraphale _everything_ , he had to make him _see_. 

Aziraphale, who had been silent throughout all of this, now began to speak, the words tumbling out before he could stop them

‘I used to go back, you know. To the bandstand. Relive it all. My terrible, dreadful words to you. The look of anguish on your face. Go home and drink wine, sometimes lots of it.’ Aziraphale sighed and shook his head. 

_Oh_ _dear_. He hadn’t meant to divulge _this_ much, but found once he had started he was unable to stop, everything pouring out like a pan bubbling over a too hot stove. 

‘Truth is, I’m a mess, Crowley, no matter how you look at it. I’m a terrible friend and even if you’ve forgiven me, I’ll never forgive myself.’

‘What if- what if you don’t have to forgive yourself? What if we just - I dunno, accept what happened and make sure it doesn’t happen again? Learn from it, as the humans would say?’

Aziraphale raised his head, contemplating Crowley’s words.

‘I’ve never really thought of it that way,’ he said, thoughtful. ‘I’ve been so focused on trying to punish myself for it, it never really occurred to me that I’m creating more problems by going over and over. Hurting you even more,’ he said, regret creeping back into his voice.

‘Let’s stop then, angel. Leave it in the past, where it belongs. Sure, you might think on it from time to time... but let’s just start over. We both said and did things we regret. It was... a difficult time?’ He spoke the last line with a hint of humour, making Aziraphale smile. 

‘I think that’s putting the end of the world a little lightly, dear.’

Crowley’s heart felt lighter hearing the angel’s jest; perhaps this conversation had done the angel some good, to finally unburden himself. Despite already touching, Crowley reached out, wrapping himself once more around Aziraphale’s soul, eliciting a sigh from the angel as he felt Crowley embrace his very core.

The demon pressed a kiss to the wing he had just finished with.

‘All done now, angel. You can put them away, if you like.’

Aziraphale gave his wings a little shake, before folding them back into the ethereal plane.

‘They feel so much better, my dear. Thank you. Perhaps I could return the favour, at some point.’

Crowley made a strangled noise in his throat, picturing the angel grooming his midnight black wings, imagining what it would feel like to have Aziraphale’s hands on them, his deft fingers weaving their way along them, gentle kisses being pressed to the feathers-

He cleared his throat and pulled himself out of the thought before he got carried away with his daydream. He had never imagined his angel would want to do something like that with him, having assumed he had only been allowed to groom Aziraphale’s out of necessity on this occasion.

Aziraphale made a sound that Crowley could only describe as a _giggle._

‘Perhaps we should also discuss the elephant in the room?’ The angel asked with a smile.

_Oh. He had felt that too, then_. Crowley felt himself blush. 

‘Um... yeah, I guess so,’ he muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment for feeling such things at such an inappropriate moment.

‘It’s fine, Crowley,’ he angel reassured him with a chuckle. ‘I can’t pretend I haven’t thought of it either, under different circumstances.’

Aziraphale’s admission only served to cause Crowley to make another strained noise. He cleared his throat.

‘So... I guess for some reason we can now... I dunno, speak to each other through something... _occult_?’ Crowley offered, floundering to find the right word.

‘I’m not sure it’s entirely _occult_ , my dear. I think perhaps... our essence, our very souls are able to connect with each other. We can evidently use it as a means of communication should the need arise. And, of course, show the other what we are feeling.’

‘Why now though? Has this happened before? Like, y’know, between angels or something?’

‘I don’t know,’ Aziraphale mused, thoughtful. ‘I’d have to do some research. It seems so natural, though. Communicating this way, I mean.’

‘Yeah.’ Crowley had to admit that once he had realised the angel was able to hear his thoughts, he had reached out with his words and feelings as though guided to do so by an invisible force, almost like how he had managed to locate Aziraphale when he had been taken. He didn’t know the _how_ or the _why_ , just that he _could_. 

Like Crowley, Aziraphale had done exactly the same, finding his way along the feeling and adding his own to the end, gently pushing them towards Crowley who, as expected, gratefully clung to them, pulling them in. 

’Kind of feels... intimate, showing you how I feel like that.’ Crowley avoided the angel’s eyes. 

Aziraphale immediately cupped his hand to Crowley’s cheek, tilting his face to meet his eyes.

‘It was _breathtaking_ , feeling the depths of your love in my very soul. I know how you feel about me, Crowley, you show me often enough. But this was _different_. It was _experiencing_ it... on another level.’

’Angel, do you think we can - share _memories_?’ Crowley asked uncertainly.

‘Well, I suppose we could try,’ Aziraphale contemplated.

Crowley immediately wondered wether he had made a mistake; after all, Aziraphale had not long had Gabriel intruding in his mind, but the angel seemed amenable to the idea.

‘I mean, only if you wanted to. One day. We don’t have to right now or anything, not so soon after Gabriel _you_ _know_ , I just thought...’ the demon trailed off.

‘Oh, Crowley. It’s fine, truly. It’s nothing like Gabriel... you wouldn’t be influencing my thoughts, making me think things. You’d just be _showing_ me a memory, like going to watch a play at the theatre, or watching a film. Presumably with us in the starring roles.’ He added with a smile. 

Crowley grinned, pleased that Aziraphale was seemingly on board with the idea. 

‘Well, if you want to try... I’d like to show you some of my memories of you. Of us. Y’know how I said before about me wishing you could see yourself through my eyes?’

‘I’d - I’d like that, I think.’ 

‘Yeah?’ Crowley asked, being surprised for the second time today.

‘Absolutely, my dear. Perhaps you’d like to show me now, if you’re ready?’ Aziraphale gazed at Crowley earnestly, eyes full of trust.

‘If - yes, yeah, I’m ready.’ 

Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hand a little tighter. He focused his mind, reaching out until he could feel the angel’s essence. Pulling a memory from the back of his mind, Crowley concentrated and sent it across their wavelength.

Aziraphale let out a surprised ‘ _oh_!’ as he saw himself through Crowley’s eyes. An endearing Principality in the Garden of Eden, conversing with Crowley as though he was not his supposed nemesis. The look of uncertainty in his eyes when he knew the Great Flood was inherently _wrong_ , but was not allowed to say so. The way his face lit up when he offered to tempt Crowley to oysters in Rome, delighting in the fact that he had, once again, bumped into him.

He saw outings to the Globe Theatre, meetings in St James Park, cosy evenings in the bookshop with bottles of wine. He saw every expressive emotion, every laughter line, every little blush and wiggle that Crowley had always found so captivating, the little details permanently etched into his memory. 

Then Crowley slowly drew the memories back to himself, gazing into Aziraphale’s eyes as he did so. The angel’s own were misty with unshed tears, and he smiled serenely at the demon. 

‘Now do you see?’ Crowley whispered, savouring Aziraphale’s expression of wonder. 

‘You’ve always been there, angel. In my thoughts, in my feelings, every last bit of you, from the way you look at me to how you smile, the way you... _gush_ over those books of yours and fuss over the little things. It’s you who I commit to memory. You who I chose to love, faults and all, because you’re _you_ , angel. And nothing that you, or Heaven, or anyone can do can change that, or take this away from me. You’re a part of me, Aziraphale, and I love you so much it scares me. I would’ve faced down a _hundred_ Archangels if it meant giving you a chance of survival. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, you know that now. Ever since you sheltered me from those first rains in Eden, I knew even then you were different, in all the best ways.’

‘So if you ever feel unworthy, or worry you’re not enough, or wonder why Heaven couldn’t accept you, think of this. Be certain in knowing that I’d never think these things of you. You’re too good for Heaven, angel. Your compassion and love for _everything_ puts the rest of them to shame. You’re _good_ because you question it. If you weren’t good, you wouldn’t worry about whether you were or not.’

There was a silence as Aziraphale processed Crowley’s words, so much to take in. When he eventually caught up with it all, he gave the only suitable response he could think of.

‘Oh _Crowley_ ,’ Aziraphale spoke his name fondly, _reverently_ , launching himself towards his demon and burying his head somewhere in his shoulder, arms wrapping around him, holding him tightly, as though he could never bear to let him go.

Crowley embraced Aziraphale, his wonderful, _glorious_ angel, pressing kisses to the side of his face which had become wet with tears.

This time though, they were tears of relief, of joy, of amazement. Aziraphale now knew that no matter what, he was loved and treasured by Crowley, who would always hold him dear, who would always find him worthy of love, who would always see him for who he was, flaws and all, and love him anyway.

Aziraphale realised that no one, not even Heaven, not even God Herself had offered him this. Unconditional love, with no punishment for not being perfect, for making mistakes. 

Aziraphale knew that as long as he had Crowley, he was home. If he ever felt incomplete again, his demon would be there to pour his love and devotion into him, filling his cup, giving him a new perspective and guiding him back to their reality.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one’s taken me a little longer, it’s been a busy few days with all the visiting family over the holidays! The next chapter will be more of an epilogue, set a little later than this one. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> I’m still having issues with the formatting but this should be resolved when I get home at the weekend and can get back on the desktop.

Crowley gazed into his angel’s eyes, spellbound by their beauty, their hues of brilliant blue and grey even greater than the very stars Crowley had once himself crafted. Cupping his face, Aziraphale stroked the demon’s cheek.

‘My _darling_. You are my world, my everything, and I love you more than words could possibly say.’

It had taken Aziraphale some time to regain full control of his emotions after Crowley had shown him just how deep and how far his love had spanned the course of their time on Earth. The peace he had allowed to wash over him, relaxing him into Crowley’s embrace, was beginning to stir to make way for something else, something more passionate.

As Crowley gazed at Aziraphale, the angel closed the distance between them and captured Crowley’s lips in a soft kiss. 

Then he was guiding Crowley towards him, hands firm yet soft on his cheeks. Crowley rose a little from his seat on the edge of the bed, and found himself being pulled closer, almost falling into Aziraphale’s lap as the angel deepened the kiss. 

‘Careful, angel!’ He gasped between kisses, afraid Aziraphale would end up toppling them off the bed and injuring himself as he pulled Crowley atop him. Aziraphale shifted a little to sink back against the pillows, all the while holding Crowley close, seeking the warmth of his kisses. The angel paused for a moment, breaking the kiss to whisper to his lover.

‘I meant it, Crowley. Six thousand years is a long time to wait, yet you did. You waited for me. I’m in awe of you, my dear. Time and time again you’ve proved your love, hoping I’d catch up with you... and now I have, and, perhaps selfishly, I want all of it, all of you... if you are still willing, of course.’

‘Still willing? Angel, of course I am! I want you, more than anything, and I want this -‘ his eyes flickered between himself and Aziraphale ‘- for eternity.’

With that, they were kissing again, full of love and adoration for each other. Hands searching under clothes to seek the thrill of the touch of the other’s skin beneath wandering fingertips, tugging at buttons and trousers and too many layers. 

Just as they were about to lose themselves in their passion, Crowley stopped and sat bolt upright.

‘Crowley? What is it?’ Aziraphale asked, suddenly put on edge by his strange behaviour.

The demon did not answer, instead pacing across the room to part the curtains, looking up and down the street below. 

‘An angel... Michael, I suppose.’ He muttered darkly.

As soon as he spoke, Aziraphale felt it too, the familiar buzz of approaching angelic energy. He had almost forgotten the Archangel’s impending visit. 

‘I see.’ Aziraphale’s heart sank, feeling somewhat flustered from the combination of his abruptly halted passion and his nervousness for Michael’s arrival. ‘I suppose we’d better get dressed, then.’

Usually, Aziraphale liked to take his time dressing the human way. Today, however, unsure of how much time they had, he miracled himself dressed with a wave of his hand. Crowley did the same, both of them silent, neither wanting to voice their own separate worries. 

The doorbell rang; the noise echoing shrilly through the flat. It was time.

...............................................

They descended the stairs together, still hand in hand. Upon reaching the bottom, Aziraphale turned to Crowley and slipped his hands around the demon’s waist, as Crowley straightened the angel’s bow tie. 

‘Perhaps you would be so kind as to wait in the back room, my dear?’ 

Crowley’s face fell. 

‘Oh. Right. Out of the way like the old days, I see.’ He tried to keep his tone teasingly light but was unable to mask the bitterness.

‘Oh no, you misunderstand. I was thinking we would sit there together, if you wouldn’t mind accompanying me. I’ll bring Michael through.’ Aziraphale had recognised the demon’s disappointed tone and was quick to provide reassurance.

‘Of course, angel. I’ll wait for you.’

Crowley gave Aziraphale one last, lingering kiss before sauntering off to the back, sliding his glasses out of his pocket as he went. 

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale smoothed down his waistcoat and headed towards the front door.

...............................................

  
Michael stood on the doorstep, dressed in a grey business suit and overcoat, their usual unreadable expression on their face. 

‘Aziraphale,’ they spoke in a clipped voice. 

‘Michael.’ Aziraphale returned evenly, greeting the Archangel in return. They looked at each other for a moment, before Aziraphale came back to himself and remembered they were standing out on the street.

‘Please, come in.’ He stepped aside to allow Michael to cross the threshold and closed the door behind them.

‘Here we are, this way.’ He ushered the Archangel into the back room, where Crowley stood lounging against the desk. Gesturing for Michael to sit in one of the vacant chairs, Aziraphale spoke.

‘I’m sure you won’t object to Crowley staying.’ It was a statement rather than a question; Aziraphale did not care whether Michael did or not. He wanted Crowley there, and the demon had been more than willing to oblige, reluctant to leave his angel alone with Michael in any case.

Michael took the chair and sat, crossing their legs, back poker straight. They eyed Crowley for a moment before turning their attention back to Aziraphale, who had taken the seat behind the desk nearest to the demon.

‘I’m sorry we met under such... distressing circumstances the other day, Aziraphale.’ Michael began. ‘I trust you are well healed?’

‘Y- yes, thank you. Thanks to Crowley here I am.’ 

Crowley was gripping the top of the empty chair with enough force to cause his hand to shake, expression unreadable behind his dark glasses.

_So polite, angel. Always so fucking polite, even after what they did to you._

Aziraphale could sense Crowley’s tension and looked up at him, eyes silently pleading. _Sit down._

_‘_ Good. I was unsure as to whether you would remember to expect me, given your condition at the time.’

Aziraphale swallowed, the reminder uncomfortable. 

‘Yes, well, I was still _conscious_ when you arrived.’

‘Barely.’ Crowley spat, unable to keep the disgust from his voice as his face contorted in fury. 

Aziraphale placed a hand over his, steadying him, calming him. It would not do to discorporate a third Archangel in the space of less than a week. Crowley started a little at the contact, then settled down in the chair. Michael raised their eyebrows at their joined hands, but if Aziraphale noticed he did not show it.

Michael cleared their throat. 

‘I am here to let you know that Heaven did not sanction any of this and we will be guaranteeing your safety, on our part at least. You will be allowed to remain here, on Earth, without interference from ourselves, as was our previous intention. That goes for both of you.’ Michael looked from Aziraphale to Crowley as she spoke.

‘However, should you cause _problems_ for us... this will, of course, have to be dealt with.’

‘Problems? And... what would you consider a problem?’ Aziraphale waited in anticipation for the answer, a little afraid of what it would be.

_Please don’t say Crowley, please don’t force us back into secret meetings. I can’t deny our love any longer._

’Interference with any of our other agents’ work on Earth, should we ever need to send any; purposefully hindering or preventing them in any way.’

Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief.

‘Will you... be monitoring us? Any miracles we perform and such?’ The angel asked uncertainly, trying to find any scope for loopholes before Michael left.

‘No. Nor will we recall you to Heaven, on a permanent basis or otherwise. Should we ever require anything from you, we will be in touch, but nothing will be asked of you unless absolutely necessary. If this was the case, there would be no obligation. It would be... a favour.’

There had to be a catch; it was far too good to be true. As much as Aziraphale wanted to take Michael’s word for it without question, he knew his troubled mind would revisit it again and again after the Archangel left, leaving him with the threat looming in the back of his mind no matter how much he tried to bury it and move on with his life.

‘Why should I believe you?’ Aziraphale started in a small voice that grew steadily stronger and filled with resentment as he spoke. ‘After what Gabriel said, after everything that’s happened? What makes you think I can take Heaven’s - _your_ \- word for anything?’ Aziraphale’s eyes shone with betrayal and regret, and Crowley tightened his grip on the angel’s hand, steadying him in the moment, proud that his angel felt able to speak his mind. Aziraphale gave it a grateful squeeze back, giving Crowley a glance.

_‘It’s ok, angel, you’re doing fine. Ask away, you deserve answers_.’ The demon silently reassured Aziraphale over their shared connection before Michael could respond.

Gabriel’s words suddenly echoed in Aziraphale’s head at Crowley’s prompt for him to ask questions. _He could be trying to make you Fall, like him._ Hebanished the ridiculous thought before he could dwell on it. _Gabriel_ was the liar, the one who tried to make him question everything he knew about his demon. _Gabriel_ was the one who had wanted to hurt him. Not Crowley. Never his beloved demon, whom only a few hours ago had shared the most intimate details of his memories, showing Aziraphale the honest truth and depth of his love.

Aziraphale stole another glance at Crowley and reached out across their connection, seeking the warmth of his reassurance. Crowley felt him do so and let his love flow freely, enshrouding the angel. It was a feeling of love, of safety, of adoration. It was home, and it was all Aziraphale needed to dispel the remaining echoes of Gabriel.

Michael cleared their throat after a few moments of watching the angel and the demon sat before them exchange mutual unfathomable looks. 

‘You share a... bond.’ Michael spoke, seemingly both confused and amazed and at once. She frowned at Aziraphale, clearly noticing the charged energy that had become apparent in the room.

‘Yes.’ He spoke firmly, not inviting questions, making it clear it was not a topic for discussion.

‘No angel has bonded with another in this way since...’ Michael trailed off, their eyes flashing with the ghost of something unspoken, something forgotten. Aziraphale noted their surprising reaction, but chose not to push further. Michael shook their head and cleared their throat again before continuing to answer Aziraphale’s question.

‘Anyway. After last year’s events regarding the Great Plan, it led us to consider things differently. We thought, perhaps, if you were able to avert the coming of the end of the world, then that was what was _supposed_ to happen. After all, the Almighty is all-powerful and would have intervened, or caused some kind of retaliation. As it was, She did not. She also allowed you to live, despite the supposed impossibility of it. We are not to question the Almighty’s decision, nor must we take matters into our own hands... unless it is what She wills. And if She wills it, She will influence it to happen.’ Michael explained.

Crowley stared, aghast. 

‘That’s what Aziraphale’s been trying to tell you all these years! The _Ineffable_ _bloody_ _Plan_! You’re all just so bloody-‘

‘Crowley, _please_.’ Aziraphale interrupted, cutting the demon off before he could say something that could incur Michael’s wrath. The demon seethed but fell silent. 

‘What of Gabriel? What happens to him now?’ Aziraphale asked, hoping the Archangel would not be returning to Earth for a very long time. 

‘He was demoted once already, for preoccupying himself with your survival to the point where his obsession overtook his servitude of the Almighty. It began getting in the way of his work, of what was important. He refused to accept our new ideas, and thought if he became more powerful he would regain his promotion. We attempted to warn him that such things could lead to certain sanctions. He chose to ignore our warning to pursue his obsession, getting Sandalphon involved and returning to Earth multiple times to have you followed, track you down. He will now therefore be tried before the Metatron, who will decide his fate. It is likely he may be demoted further.’

‘Oh,’ was all Aziraphale was able to say to this new piece of information. _Gabriel had been watching him, following him_. For some time, by the sounds of things. He hadn’t realised, hadn’t felt his presence. Either the Archangel had been deliberately concealing himself, or Aziraphale had been too caught up in his new life to notice. How many times had Gabriel seen Crowley leave the bookshop with a kiss? How many times had he followed Aziraphale to the park, watching as he reflected on his mistakes, as his anxiety threatened to overwhelm him? How many times had he witnessed Aziraphale, guard completely down, open and vulnerable as he shared loving words and lingering looks with Crowley as they went to dinner, strolled through the park? 

How many times had Gabriel intruded on personal moments that belonged only to himself and Crowley without Aziraphale’s knowledge?

‘Is that it?’ Crowley interrupted Aziraphale’s thoughts. ‘You’re not going to make him Fall?’ The demon scowled in anger, his voice laced with disbelief.

‘Only the Almighty has the authority to decide who Falls.’  
.............................................  
  
Michael had finally left, Crowley seeing them out after Aziraphale had seemed to get lost in thought, not contributing further to the conversation. The Archangel had not shown any hostility towards Crowley, and he had managed to keep a lid on his emotions as he led them to the door, each giving the other a stiff goodbye before Michael disappeared up the street. Crowley had watched them go, waiting until they were out of sight before closing the door and hurrying to his angel, who had still not emerged from the back room.

Aziraphale was sat very still, the room silent. He was still trying to process his thoughts following Michael’s revelation that he had been followed by Gabriel.

He felt a sense of violation, almost as much as he had when his wings had been attacked. It was like Gabriel was back, in his head again, and he could not erase the fact that the Archangel had been there, intruding in his life, lurking around private moments that no one, least of all him, should have borne witness to.

Eventually the feeling passed, giving way to an indescribable anger. Aziraphale pushed himself to his feet, hands gripping the desk, trying to control himself. His emotions won, and he found himself knocking his antique lamp to the floor, breaking the shade, giving a cry of fury as he did so. 

Crowley was at his side in moments, unsure of whether to touch the angel or to stand well back while he raged. Aziraphale was beginning to blaze with holy light, causing Crowley to wince and avert his eyes.

‘Angel,’ he started. Aziraphale did not respond; body tense, light continuing to pour from him.

‘Aziraphale!’ Crowley’s sharper tone brought the angel back to himself and the light faded, his breathing beginning to slow.

‘Oh Crowley, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot myself for a moment.’ Aziraphale’s voice was full of regret, and he sat back down heavily in his chair, head bowed.

Crowley noticed the wet droplets falling onto the pieces of paper that lay on the desk as Aziraphale gave a small sniff, and the demon reached out and placed his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, using his other to perform a quick miracle to repair the lamp, returning it to its rightful place upon the desk.

‘It’s not- I’m not- I’m just so _angry_ , Crowley.’ He looked up at his demon with wide, watery eyes that had taken on an almost electric blue hue.

‘I know I shouldn’t be. Hardly very _angelic_ of me... but I don’t care! He was _watching_ us. Heaven knows how long for, or when, or...’ Aziraphale trailed off, flustered.

‘I know, angel. You’ve every right to be angry. But...’ he paused, unsure of whether he was about to say the right thing or make it much worse.

‘Gabriel might have seen things we’d rather he didn’t. But that doesn’t mean those moments weren’t special to us regardless. He’s tried to take so much from you, angel... don’t let him take _our time_ too.’

Aziraphale’s eyes dimmed a little, returning to their usual blue-grey. 

‘You’re right, of course... it’s just so _wrong_. We, that is to say angels, just aren’t supposed to _do_ that sort of thing... possess that level of hatred, of obsession.’

‘I know, angel, I know.’ Crowley stroked his hand over Aziraphale’s back, soothing his anger and easing some of his tension. The angel leaned back into the touch, closing his eyes as he rested his head somewhere against Crowley’s hip. 

‘He’s not coming back, Aziraphale. He can’t hurt you or get inside your head anymore. He can’t watch us, or play games with us. It’s just you and me.’

‘Together.’ Aziraphale smiled despite himself.

‘For eternity.’ Crowley murmured somewhere above him, as he cradled Aziraphale close.

The angel smiled, and finally allowed himself to relax, his demon a soothing balm against his anger.

It didn’t matter any more that Heaven had let him go for good. If anything, it was better. Better than being in the awkward limbo of being forced to report in and show his face there despite neither he nor anyone else particularly wanting him to be there. All that mattered was he had his life, here on Earth, with Crowley.

It would still be a long road to recovery, and there would always be scars, both emotional and physical. There were many obstacles to overcome, and there were some wounds that only time could heal.

But here, surrounded by more love and hope and optimism than he could ever hope to find elsewhere, Aziraphale could start to come to terms with what had happened. There was so much to be thankful for; Crowley’s boundless devotion and their newly discovered bond opened up new experiences to share, new paths to tread. Although Aziraphale was uncertain about many things, there was one thing he could be sure of, one constant. His love for Crowley, which shone brighter than any halo, more beautiful than the stars and would remain eternal for as long as God herself allowed.


	10. Chapter Ten: Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve made it here to the final chapter, thank you so much! I really hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it! Many thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments too, they’re always appreciated.
> 
> This chapter is very fluffy. Our favourite angel and demon deserve a happy ending :)
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please check out my latest work here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22234354/chapters/53090743

**Eight Months Later**

Crowley was drifting on a sea of pleasure; senses heightened, his body no longer his own, as close to divine ecstasy as he could get these days. 

Somewhere above him, or possibly in front, he heard the murmuring of a voice close to his ear, the tone honey-sweet and teasing.

‘When you finally decide to join me back on Earth, my dear, I have something for you.’

What could Aziraphale possibly have that he had not already given him; what was tempting enough to pull Crowley from this blissful haze?

‘Bastard angel,’ he heard himself mutter, voice full of playfulness and adoration. He forced his eyes to flutter open, body remaining boneless as the final, diminishing aftershock pulsed through him. As he lay there, he gazed up at Aziraphale with golden snake-like eyes, and saw that the angel wore a smug, satisfied expression.

‘Wily serpent.’ Aziraphale retorted, continuing to smirk at his demon, who seemed unable to move after his miraculously drawn out comedown. The angel had connected with him so intimately; allowing his celestial energy to flow into Crowley through their shared bond, pouring his very essence into him, their entwined souls singing a melody far sweeter than should ever be possible for a demon.

Crowley grinned, managing to lazily move his arm to brush a hand through Aziraphale’s tousled curls, the angel humming and leaning into the touch.

‘Not sure what you had in mind, angel, but I’m not sure I can move any time soon, after that.’

‘Well, I suppose I could allow you to lie there a little longer,’ Aziraphale replied, tucking his wings away into the ethereal plane to wriggle down the bed, lying face to face with his demon. 

‘That's far more comfortable now, thank goodness.’

‘Is that...’ Crowley was reluctant to broach the subject, but the angel had been the first one to bring it up.

‘...easier now?’ 

Aziraphale had found it rather uncomfortable to bring his wings in and out since the incident with Gabriel. Despite their now wholly healed, original appearance, they had been somewhat stiff and sore for some time. Lately though, he had been able to use them with more ease, and today, he had not experienced any discomfort at all. 

‘Much, thank you. Perfectly comfortable.’ 

They shared a look that conveyed so much emotion, an understanding passing between the two. 

Then Aziraphale brushed his hand across Crowley’s chest, causing the demon to almost leap into a sitting position with a yelp, the heavy mood that had threatened to settle disappearing completely. Aziraphale had the audacity to actually snigger, raising his eyebrows. 

‘Still sensitive, I see?’

‘ _Still_ _sensitive_? You-‘ 

Crowley chose not to finish his sentence; instead, he tackled the angel, pinning him to the bed, hands palm to palm and pushed against pillows, almost every inch of their bodies touching.

‘Keep that up and it’ll be you who’s sensitive, angel.’ He spoke in that dangerously seductive voice, the one he knew Aziraphale could not resist.

Today, however, Aziraphale simply grinned, and leaned up to steal a quick, chaste kiss in his opportune position. 

‘You’ll just have to wait until later.’ His own voice was full of promise, and Crowley raised his eyebrows.

‘Hedonist,’ the demon teased, as Aziraphale gently pushed him off with surprising strength and climbed off the bed, dressing himself as Crowley continued to watch.

‘So, what’ve you got planned then?’

‘Aha!’ Aziraphale disappeared from the room for a moment before returning with a wicker hamper and holding it up to show Crowley.

‘I thought we could go for a picnic.’

.......................................................

The late spring haze had begun to lift from St. James Park, allowing a pleasant view over the grassy bank towards the duck pond. Aziraphale and Crowley had chosen a more secluded spot than their usual bench, to allow space for a tartan blanket (the angel’s, of course) to be spread over the ground; upon it, nothing short of a small spread. 

Aziraphale had thought of everything: a delicious array of cheeses and olives, fresh grapes and strawberries, beautifully soft, golden crusted bread, and numerous cakes and pastries including a velvety rich chocolate tart favoured by Crowley. To top it all, there was champagne; somehow still chilled despite having sat in the basket for nearly an hour. 

Crowley watched as his angel finished his last mouthful of an apple filled pastry, licking his lips and wiping his hands on his napkin. Although he would never admit it, he enjoyed watching Aziraphale eat. Food was one of the simple pleasures that never failed to delight the angel, and Crowley would listen to the small, pleased noises he would make and watch Aziraphale’s face light up in wonder at the burst of flavours he tasted in his favourite dishes. 

‘That was absolutely scrumptious. Have you had enough, my dear?’ Aziraphale asked, as Crowley sipped his champagne, his plate empty.

‘Oh, it was plenty for me, angel. Very nice.’ 

‘Wonderful.’ Aziraphale beamed, the picture of perfect happiness. Once, it had seemed as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but now... carefree and relaxed, he frequently seemed lighter, his laugh taking on a cheerful tinkle that had perhaps not been there as often before, bright blue eyes sparkling with delight and excitement. 

Crowley had always been the opposite: almost too casual in the way he carried himself as though overcompensating to mask the feeling of being on edge. Lately, however, he had seemed more naturally relaxed and at ease. 

Once the picnic things were packed away, Crowley offered Aziraphale his arm as they strolled together through the park, the basket banished to the back seat of the Bentley. They chatted animatedly about the weather, the ducks, the people; reminiscing as they went. They had been so deep in conversation, so caught up in the moment with each other, that neither had noticed they were walking in the general direction of the bandstand until it was upon them.

‘Oh.’ Aziraphale stopped in his tracks, causing Crowley to come to a standstill next to him. His cheerful demeanour began to diminish. 

‘You ok, angel?’ Crowley asked softly.

‘Yes- I- that is to say... not really, no,’ the angel finally admitted, looking down and fussing with the buttons of his waistcoat. 

‘Aziraphale...’ Crowley spoke gently, understanding the angel’s apprehension at being back here, the place that held so many memories, most of them less than pleasant.

‘Don’t mind me, my dear. Just being silly.’ 

‘You’re not being silly, angel... I know this place is full of memories.’

‘But it _is_ silly. It’s just a bandstand. We’ve had arguments in plenty of other places that we’ve later returned to, without even so much as batting an eyelid.’

They both knew deep down _why_ Aziraphale was affected in such a way. It wasn’t just the memories of their argument before Armageddon, it was what came after. It was what the bandstand represented for the angel. Guilt. Regret. Their lack of communication. _Vulnerability._

Crowley took a deep breath and faced his angel, removing his glasses. 

‘Aziraphale.’ He spoke softly and seriously. ‘We don’t have to be here if you don’t want to. We can turn around and walk away, right now.’

There was a _but_ in his words though, and Aziraphale sensed it, and voiced as much.

‘It’s a beautiful place. We can’t change the past, but... we can decide our future. We can choose to make new memories. _Better_ ones. Ones we can look back on with joy instead of sadness.’

Aziraphale thought for a moment, then his lips began to slowly turn upwards into a small smile.

‘You’re right, of course. I think... it’s probably a good idea.’

Aziraphale gazed up at the steps and felt his feet move him along, carrying him slowly up towards the platform. He was a little nervous, concerned that he would become flooded with anxiety the moment he stepped up there, all the old feelings rushing back... but if they came, he was ready to face them. 

As he looked out over the park, Aziraphale ran his hand over the cool metal of the handrail, breathing out slowly as though blowing away the lingering pain that had burdened him for so long. He closed his eyes, feeling the gentle breeze of the spring air on his face, breathing in the fresh air and promise of new life that the season brought. The anticipated rush of anxiety did not come. All that remained was the tranquility of the park as he concentrated on the physical sensations that kept him in the moment. 

A hand on his shoulder reminded Aziraphale that he was not alone. He opened his eyes and turned to face Crowley, slipping his arms around the demon’s waist as he was silently gathered in his embrace. Looking up, Aziraphale pressed a chaste kiss to Crowley’s lips, which was returned with a careful tenderness.

‘I love you ever so much, my dear.’ 

Aziraphale thought he could never tell Crowley too many times, especially not after discovering the poor demon had been pining for him for centuries. 

‘I love you too, angel.’ Crowley glanced around before determining there was no one in their general vicinity. Leaning down, he pressed an open mouthed kiss to Aziraphale’s lips, pouring his love and devotion into it with his body and soul. The sudden rush from their spiritual connection took the angel by surprise, causing him to gasp and kiss Crowley back with more enthusiasm. 

They stood there for some time, holding each other and kissing, basking in the other’s glow. As dusk began to settle, they sat side by side on the steps, pressed up against each other as they discussed the new experiences they intended to create. 

‘Let’s start now, if you like. Have you ever been here after dark?‘ Crowley asked.

‘Yes.’ Aziraphale said softly, voice full of emotion. Crowley did not need to ask; he knew what Aziraphale’s failure to elaborate meant. 

‘Did you ever look at the stars?’ He matched the angel’s soft tone, taking his hand.

‘I can’t say that I did, no.’ Aziraphale admitted.

‘Right, well... we’re going to need the blanket-‘ he pulled said object out of thin air ‘- and a space to sit on the grass.’ 

Crowley led Aziraphale down the last few steps, and they settled on the grass at the side of the bandstand, laying down the blanket beforehand. A flask of steaming cocoa suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and Aziraphale poured the two of them a cup as the evening grew steadily darker. 

The first of the stars eventually appeared, twinkling like lamps in the night sky. They finished the cocoa, and Crowley settled himself and Aziraphale back on the blanket, his arm around the angel’s shoulders as they lay looking up, the deep indigo sky turning midnight blue. 

The stars shone brightly as the night sky remained perfectly clear, the park silent and still. Aziraphale turned on his side and curled into Crowley a little, kissing the demon’s cheek, listening intently as he pointed out constellations and talked about the cosmos. 

When Crowley eventually paused, Aziraphale sighed happily.

‘I could listen to you talk all night, my dear. It really is wonderful, hearing you talk with such passion.’

‘Now you know how I feel when I’m with you, all those times you apologised for _waffling_ _on_ , as you put it.’ Crowley grinned, pressing a kiss to his angel’s curls, shining silver in the moonlight.

Aziraphale returned his smile and the two locked eyes, caught up in each other for a moment, the air between them becoming charged as Crowley captured Aziraphale’s lips this time, kissing him with eagerness.

Before things could become too heated, Aziraphale pulled away and whispered against Crowley’s lips.

‘Shall we return home, my dear? Perhaps we could take this somewhere a little more... private?’

‘Oh, definitely, angel.’ His voice took on a darker tone, full of promise. ‘I can carry on showing you the stars there, too. We can map them out together, if you like.’

Aziraphale shivered, though it had nothing to do with the evening chill that had begun to set in. Rising to their feet, they folded the blanket before setting off towards the parked Bentley.

The drive back was mostly in silence, Aziraphale’s hand settled on Crowley’s knee for the entire journey, the air between them crackling with electricity. Before they arrived, however, Aziraphale blurted something out of the blue.

‘Move in with me.’

Crowley swerved suddenly, narrowly missing another driver who honked their horn, which the demon ignored. 

‘Sorry, my dear. I didn’t quite mean for it to come out like that, I- _watch_ _the_ _road_!’ The angel yelped, gripping Crowley’s knee tighter as he weaved in and out of the oncoming traffic whilst looking at Aziraphale. He quickly turned his head back to placate the angel, heart beating quicker than it had been before.

‘You want us to live together?’ 

‘I think perhaps now’s not the time to discuss this after all,’ Aziraphale said, thoroughly on edge from the erratic driving. 

‘It’s fine, I promise not to discorporate us.’ Crowley said, exasperated. He very much wanted to discuss this _now_.

‘Well - it was just a thought. If you like. It doesn’t have to be the bookshop. We can go... somewhere else. Somewhere together. Make it _ours_.’

Crowley frowned.

‘But angel, you love your bookshop.’

‘I love _you_. Although I am extremely fond of my bookshop, yes... but I expect wherever we choose to go, it will likely follow.’

Screeching to a halt outside the aforementioned establishment, they sat together in the car for a moment, thinking about what Aziraphale had just said.

‘You don’t like the idea.’ Aziraphale sounded disappointed by Crowley’s lack of response.

Crowley simply stared.

‘Are you joking? I love the idea! There’s nothing I’d want more, honest. You just... surprised me, is all.’

‘Really?’ The word was full of hope, full of joy. Aziraphale’s eyes shone a bright blue in the dark, lit up with happiness, hardly daring to believe his luck.

‘ _Really_ , angel. Just want it to be right for _you_. Now, lets go in and open some wine, we can talk more about it inside. And I made you that promise earlier, remember.’ He gave Aziraphale a sly smile.

‘How could I forget?’ Aziraphale returned the smile, eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand as they walked the few steps to the door of the bookshop. As the angel fumbled with the keys, Crowley pressed a kiss to the bit of neck he was able to reach, causing the angel to almost drop the key and draw in a sharp breath.

‘The rest of our lives, angel,’ he murmured into Aziraphale’s ear as he stole another kiss. ‘Yours and mine. Ours.’

‘Ours,’ Aziraphale agreed, another shiver running through him with the word. ‘And I want to share it with you in every possible way.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

.......................................................

Upstairs in the flat, an angel and a demon laid plans for their new life together. 

Against all odds, against the rules, against what was _supposed to be_ their very natures, their relationship had stood the test of time. Now time was finally on their side, and Aziraphale and Crowley intended to make the most of every second; make every moment count.

Now and again, Aziraphale would still have bad days.

Sometimes, Crowley would still have nightmares.

Now though, rather than keep silent and push each other away, the angel and demon would share their anxieties and insecurities almost as freely as they did their joys and pleasures. It had taken time, but they had finally arrived at this mutual place of understanding. Together they had rebuilt, helped heal each other both physically and spiritually, allowing trust and love to fill the cracks in their souls.

Solidifying their beautiful, ineffable connection. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter pretty much wrote itself. I love writing fluff for these two :)


End file.
